


Bodies in the Snow

by Artistwolf



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Eventual Romance, F/M, Guns, Mention of attempted rape, Mentions of Violence, Policeman Bucky Barnes, Policeman original charcter, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, bucky is framed, dangerous area, discussion of guns, domestic violence mentions, murder mystery (eventually), police patrol, sergeant james barnes, they're policeman so there will be uncomfortable topics mentioned, will put them in the notes for each mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21725437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artistwolf/pseuds/Artistwolf
Summary: Megan Hayes has just joined a police office overseeing one of the most dangerous areas of New York. None other than James Barnes--the supersoldier that works as a policeman when not on missions with the Avengers--is the sergeant there. While showing her the ropes, when she's on patrol with him, they stumble upon a murder scene which looks strangely like The Winter Soldier's killing style... Although neither of them are allowed to work on the case--they're not detectives and James is a prime suspect--they find themselves working together in secret to find the killer and clear James' name.Yes, he's called James throughout the story by most characters because I felt that, as a police sergeant, he would probably have to be a little more formal.I kind of suck at writing mysteries and the storyline may change a little as we go on, so bear with me here aha. We'll see how it goes.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 9





	1. First Days are the Worst

**Author's Note:**

> For reference, this is what her hairstyle looks like: https://pin.it/miz53xzikkq2pu

Megan took a deep breath as she turned her purple jeep into the parking lot of the police station. Parking her car in one of the lots, she turned it off and picked up her stainless steel travel thermos of coffee and took a long sip as she stared at the brick building, unsure of where to enter. The front, she supposed, although that seemed a bit conspicuous. She sighed and checked her watch before climbing out of her jeep.

First days were never fun.

“Hey!” A voice called out to her, and she turned to see a young man walking up to her. He was wearing a dark blue police shirt, with a police badge and three chevrons on the sleeve, clearly identifying him as a sergeant. He might have passed for a regular police officer, if not for the fact that the left sleeve of the shirt had been cut off, allowing for his metal prosthetic arm to show. Megan froze, looking at the man in front of her with awe. He smiled, his bright blue eyes looking friendly, and she studied his face. His dark hair was cropped short, and he had a day’s worth of stubble on his face. “I’m Sergeant James Barnes,” he said, extending his hand.

As if she didn’t know that. This was _the_ James “Bucky” Barnes, the one who worked as a police sergeant in one of the roughest neighborhoods in New York when he wasn’t working with the Avengers. This was the man who had gone to war in the forties and had ended up a brainwashed super-soldier for the other side up until just a few years ago. He had been there for her interview, so she shouldn’t really be so surprised to see him again… but he had seemed distracted then, not focused at all, really, and now he wasn’t like that at all. He was standing right in front of her, looking at her with a sort of scrutinizing intensity which really was not at all comforting. The holsters of two guns and a taser on his belt, not to mention the knives strapped on his leg, didn’t exactly help the situation. Megan looked back at his eyes, those kind blue orbs that finally offered some degree of comfort, and forced herself to speak. “Um, hi. I’m Megan Hayes. But you knew that.”

“Well, for that matter, I expect you knew my name as well,” James chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anyway, you’re _Officer_ Megan Hayes now, remember that. And welcome to the force.”

Megan flushed slightly with pride at the title. “Thank you. It’s an honor to be working under you.” She blushed darker as she realized how odd that may have sounded. “Ehm, I mean--”

James snorted and motioned for her to follow him. “I didn’t peg you as one of those who joined this district just to get to work with me.”

“I’m not,” Megan said, raising her eyebrows. “That would be a really idiotic thing to do.”

“Good,” James said emphatically. “We’re in agreement on that.” He squinted at her walking next to her. “So what did make a little thing like you decide to work for the most notoriously dangerous district? A death wish?”

“Hey, I can actually take care of myself,” Megan shot back. “You’d be surprised.”

“I’m sure I will be,” Bucky agreed, stepping into the building. “So the uniform fit okay, I take it?”

Megan looked down at her navy blue long-sleeved shirt, with two pockets on the front, a shiny badge pinned above her right breast, and the police patch on her sleeve. The shirt was tucked into black pants, and she wore a thick black belt with a three-way plastic buckle and lace-up black boots. “Yep. Perfect.”

“Good.” Her gaze flickered to his pants, with their many pockets and the strap holding his knives just above where his pants were tucked into his boots. “Yeah, I’m allowed to choose my own stuff within reason,” Bucky shrugged, noticing her gaze. “And since I’m in charge of the scariest missions, well, it’s good to have a few extra weapons on hand. Come on, I’ll get you your sidearm and all that.”

Megan nodded, following him into the back room of the police station, where various policemen and women were chatting in the break room. They all looked up when Bucky approached. “Hey guys, this is Officer Megan Hayes, just starting today. I’ll be showing her around and supervising her for a while.” He went around the room, naming each officer in turn. “Jim Richardson, Anne Gonzales, Eric Washington, Noah Armstrong, Laura Flores, Roger Sanders, Matt Roberts, Jonas Collins.”

“Nice to meet you guys,” Megan said politely.

After a few more brief words, Bucky informed everyone that he was going to go ‘fit her with a sidearm’. “You’ll need to get to your patrol cars by 9:00,” James reminded them before leaving the room. He stopped briefly by what Megan supposed was his office and told her to leave her stuff there, and then walked off down a hallway and into a room that was off of a soundproof shooting range for target practice. “I’ve been reading your file,” James told Megan, “And I must say, the one thing that concerned me was your relatively low training in firearms.” He grinned. “Which is why I’m here.”

Megan groaned. “I wish we didn’t have to use guns here.”

James frowned. “If you’re afraid of guns, I’d suggest you turn around and resign right now.”

“I didn’t say I was afraid. I just hate how much they’ve increased the lethality of standard police missions, and how it’s so easy to use them to one’s own advantage. I wrote my thesis about that.”

Bucky shrugged. “Fair enough. But a firearm can be the best way of saving your life, don’t forget that.”

“Trust me, I know,” Megan murmured.

Bucky raised her eyebrows at her curiously. After a moment, he turned and unlocked a cabinet in the corner of the room, pulled out a magazine pouch, and tossed it to Megan. “You’ll need this.” He tossed another pouch to her. “There’s a tactical flashlight; you’ll get your Maglite when you get your patrol car. And here’s your ECD.” He waved her over for that one, and handed it to her.

“You mean a taser?”

“Someone wasn’t listening in class,” Bucky snorted. “Taser is a brand-name. It’s an electronic control device--ECD.” He looked back in the cabinet and pulled out a baton. “Duty belt baton. Hope you know how to use this.”

“Of course I do,” Megan said irritably. “Not knowing that a Taser is also called an ECD doesn’t mean I’m useless, you know.” She strapped the baton onto her belt and combed a hand through the short curls on top of her head that spilled down one side. The sides of her hair was cut very short, in an almost pixie cut, with the top being longer and spilling over her face in a half-bangs. She noticed James watching her fiddle with her hair and raised an eyebrow. He cleared his throat and returned to the task at hand.

“Handcuffs.” He handed them to her.

“I’m still surprised at how long they had to spend on the handcuffing unit at the academy,” Megan remarked idly as she clipped them onto her belt.

Bucky laughed. “You know, so was I. I thought I’d know everything about policing, and then someone asked me how to use handcuffs and I had no idea. I guess I’m more used to executing than arresting,” he added casually, and Megan stared at him with some interest. “Don’t anymore, of course,” he hastened to add. He cleared his throat again and looked back in the cabinet. “And here’s your pepper spray.”

“Worst day at the Academy,” Megan commented, strapping it onto her belt.

Bucky laughed. “Yeah, getting sprayed with that stuff isn’t fun.” He closed the cabinet and locked it before moving to a different cabinet and unlocking it. He reverently pulled out a gun. “This is a Glock 22. I want to see you shoot it in there before you can have it.” He nodded to the soundproof shooting range.

“Right.” She took the gun from Bucky and held it carefully, measuring its weight. “Going to be honest here--I thought I’d be getting a Glock 19.”

“The only reason I’d give you that is that it’s easier to conceal, and we’re really not all that concerned about that here.” He glanced ruefully down at his own collection of weapons. “Clearly. This is more powerful.”

“Got it. What have you got, out of curiosity?”

James pulled one of them out. “This is a Sig Sauer P226. It’s got an ambidextrous catch, which I like, and it’s pretty powerful. I tend to use weapons originally made for the military, for obvious reasons.” He slipped that one back in his holster and pulled out the other one. “And this is a Beretta M9. It’s semi-automatic, which is why I carry both it and the Sauer. And I keep a Colt M4 Carbine in the car, which I’m honestly most familiar with. It’s what I use on my missions.”

“Wow. You’d think we’re headed into a war zone.”

“Gang warfare is an issue in this area,” James pointed out. “But thankfully--no real war zones here.”

“Says the guy who willingly goes into war-type zones with the Avengers,” Megan murmured.

“I do not do that willingly,” Bucky snapped, looking surprisingly offended by the comment. “Everything I do, I do because I _can_ and I _should_. I spent so much of my life _murdering innocent people_ that I have to--” he stopped, blinking. “Sorry. Let’s see your firearm skills.”

“I’m sorry if I--”

“Stop,” James said firmly. “Forget I said anything.”

“Right.” She followed him into the room, still holding the Glock. She positioned herself and aimed carefully at the target, hesitating a moment before squeezing the trigger and riding out the recoil naturally.

Bucky looked at where she had hit the target, very close to the center. “Not bad. Clearly you’ve got more experience than I gave you credit for.”

“Thank you,” Megan said. “I did train for this job, you know.”

Bucky hummed and pulled out his Sauer. “Out of interest--try this one. It’s got a bit more recoil, so expect that.”

Megan looked at him with interest, and handed him the Glock, which he took with his metal hand, and handed her the Sig Sauer P226. “I like the wood grip,” she commented, holding it carefully and pointing at the target with two hands. She squeezed the trigger, only moving back a little at the recoil.

“Pretty good. Try that with one hand?”

Megan sighed and shifted to one hand, taking longer to aim this time before firing the shot.

“You could work on the one-hand,” James told her, looking at where she had hit, on the very edge of the target. “Watch how I do it.” He took the gun from her and aimed at the target with one hand, not noticeably flinching at all at the recoil. Her eyes widened as she saw that he had hit the target bang in the center.

“Wow, you’re good. And you’re ambidextrous?”

“Mmhmm. Watch my technique.” He switched hands, gripping the gun with the black metal of his arm. She noticed that he wore a small leather fingerless glove on that hand.  
“What’s with the glove?” She asked before he could shoot.

“Grip,” he said shortly. “Otherwise it can be hard to hold things.” He fired the shot, again landing square in the center.

“I have to admit, I’m impressed.”

Bucky laughed. “How’s this?” he turned around so that he was facing her, and stared into her eyes firmly as he raised his metal arm to the side. Megan opened her mouth to speak in alarm, but before she could, he fired the gun. Her eyes widened as she realized that his shot had been true.

“How--”

Bucky laughed. “Alright, that’s enough showing off. I’d recommend you practice your one-handed shooting as often as you can. Two hands works on most occasions, fortunately, but it helps not to be bound by that.”

“I’m afraid I’m not at all ambidextrous,” Megan sighed. “I hope you’re not looking for that, too.”

“Not at all,” James said quickly. “That’s… not something I imagine it’d be easy to teach oneself. I don’t know when I learned it, and it is useful, but not necessary.” He looked at his metal hand.

“Why don’t you wear a sleeve over your metal arm?”

James looked up at her quickly. “Sorry, I usually check to make sure--does it make you uncomfortable?”

“No, of course not,” Megan hastened to say. “Why would it?”

“Because it’s a murder weapon,” James replied quietly.

“It’s just an arm,” Megan replied stubbornly. “I’m just curious as to why you’d go to all the effort of getting your shirts altered for it.”

“Clothing can get stuck in the metal,” James finally replied. “In most situations, that doesn’t matter, but in any dangerous one, it could have some pretty bad consequences. It can short-circuit or something, and then I’ve only got one usable arm and I’m in pain. That answer your question, Nosy?”

“Yes, it does,” Megan replied. “And I’m not nosy. Just genuinely curious. So you can feel it?”

“Can we stop talking about it?” James asked suddenly, and Megan noticed some tightness around his eyes. “Thank you.” He took his Sig Sauer back from her and slipped it into the holster, then walked back into the equipment room. Megan followed him, and strapped the holster he handed her to her belt and slipped her Glock 22 into it. “Do you have any field training with guns?” he asked Megan suddenly.

She looked up, slightly alarmed by the question--of all the things he had to ask, why was it that? “Um, at the Academy we had mock--”

“Not asking about the Academy,” he cut her off. She didn’t reply for a moment, and Bucky frowned. “Officer Hayes?”

“I--not with guns.”

“They didn’t teach you enough in the academy for the amount you know,” James said firmly.

“I taught myself before the academy,” she said finally. “I keep a gun in my car.”

“Why?” Megan merely glared at him, refusing to answer. “Fine. What kind of gun is it?”

“Roger LC9.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “That’s a good small firearm. I’m impressed.”

Megan smiled a little, a bit unnerved by the conversation. “Have you read my record?” she asked slowly.

“I don’t read those,” James said firmly. “I’ve got an extensive one that lists myself as a suspected terrorist, although Steve’s tried to get that off the record. I’ve got a guy who will read through those if the applicant has a criminal record.” She flinched slightly, and James blinked at her. “So you do? I didn’t know that.”

Megan shook her head and looked away. “I guess it’s not important then.”

“I guess not,” James said slowly. “Should I look at it?”

“No,” Megan said quickly. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

James nodded thoughtfully and began walking back to his office. He opened his mouth to speak when his radio suddenly crackled to life. "We've just got a report of a gunman in a convenience store on the corner of Ninth and Oak drive."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn a little bit more about our characters as Megan shadows James for the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Brief mention of blood, violence, gangster gets shot and killed.

James drove swiftly through the traffic, sirens blazing, and Megan watched with interest as cars pulled over ahead of them to let them through the street. “You know, this is the first time I’ve ever seriously been in this scenario,” she yelled out. “Besides the simulations at the Academy.”

“Mmm.” James stepped on the gas as the road straightened out, and Megan gripped the passenger’s seat tightly. “Sorry, trying to drive.”

“Do you have to go so fast?”

“There’s a gunman in a convenience store,” James snapped. “People could be dying.”

“Well, it doesn’t help if we die first.”

“Shut up.” James swung the car into the convenience store parking lot and jumped out almost before he had fully stopped, and ran into the store, pulling out his gun as he did so. Megan followed his lead.

“NYPD! HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD!” Several customers raised their hands, looking terrified as they cowered behind aisles of groceries. James took a quick stock of the situation, noticing the way the patrons were slowly getting up, and the cash register area appeared to be empty. He lowered his gun slightly.

“He’s gone, sir,” a young boy, who looked to be about ten, told James in a shaky voice.

“I figured. Everyone up, you’re safe now. How long ago did he leave?”

“Only about a minute ago,” one woman spoke up. “He wasn’t here long at all. But he hit the cahier over the head with his gun; she’s probably behind the register.”

Bucky nodded tightly and hurried over there, spotting a slightly overweight woman who looked to be in her fifties laying on the floor, a pool of blood around her head. “Officer, go fetch the first-aid kit from the car,” he yelled out to her.

“On it,” she called back, and he spoke into his radio as she hurried off, asking for an ambulance.

The ambulance came quickly, and Megan and James spent the next hour or so writing out a police report. James told a few of the patrons to stop by the police office later to give a fuller report, and also took the CCV camera footage. Finally, they left the convenience store and climbed back into the vehicle.

James sighed. “I hate that sort of thing. So boring, filling out reports.” Megan let out a surprised chuckle. “Want to grab some lunch somewhere? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, sure. Wherever you want to go.”

“There’s a good sandwich shop around the corner here which we tend to frequent. Let’s stop there.”

At the sandwich shop, James ordered a meatball sub, while Megan went for a Mediterranean veggie sandwich. “So you’re working four twelves, right?” James asked, taking a bite of his sandwich.

“Yep. 48 hour week. What fun.”

“You don’t notice all that extra time when it gets dark. Things get a little hectic.”

“What are your work hours?”

James shrugged. “I’m here most of the time. However long I want to, really. Almost every day.”

Megan paused with her sandwich halfway to her mouth. “Until how late?”

James shrugged. “I’ve stopped keeping track, really. They need me here at night. It gets really dangerous.”

This made her put her sandwich down. “But when do you sleep? I know you’re trying to help, but if you’re too tired you’re no use to anybody.”

James snorted. “Then I should just resign from life. I’d rather be working than laying in a bed, unable to sleep. I can live with very few hours of sleep, so I do what I can.”

Megan stared at him thoughtfully, finally taking in the dark circles under his eyes and the faint anxiety she could sense in his eyes. James offered her a small smile and reached for his coffee with his left hand. He picked it up without thinking, only to have the metal miss any purchase on the ceramic mug. He squeezed his hand tighter to get a better grip, only to crush the entire mug. His face went beat red, and he quickly got up, murmuring apologies and blinking rapidly.

Megan couldn’t help but laugh, which caused James to round on her. “What part of that was funny?” He barked. “I can’t even hold a stupid coffee mug without breaking it.”

Megan stood up, completely unfazed as she wiped coffee off the table with a couple napkins. “I’m sorry, you have to learn how to laugh at yourself,” she chuckled. “You just crushed a coffee mug. I’d call that more impressive than anything.”

James glared at her, shoving his metal arm into his pocket and muttering to himself. The waitress hurried over with a broom. “Don’t worry about it, Sergeant, things break all the time,” she laughed.

“I’ll pay for it,” James said, looking angry at himself and deeply embarrassed. “I’m sorry to have caused you trouble. I can clean it up, really.”

“No need,” the woman said, waving off his statements. “We’re grateful for all you do for this community. We can afford a new coffee cup.”

James opened his mouth to protest when his radio crackled to life. “We’re going to need backup over here,” someone said. “We’ve got two gangs gathering on the blacktop next to the high school. Looks like things could turn violent.”

“On my way,” James barked into the radio, all of his awkward embarrassed attitude replaced with one of authority and control. “Send the order to get the school put on full lockdown if it isn’t already. Don’t approach them yet; we’ll step in as a group when there are more of us. Richardson, Armstrong, I want you two in on this. Get your sirens on and pull up in front of them. Don’t get out of the car—I’ll speak to them. Only join me if I give the signal. Got it?”

Three sets of voices gave their assent. Megan took one last bite of her sandwich before running outside and jumping into the car with James. “I understand why we prepaid now,” she gasped after swallowing.

“Remember, if this turns into a gunfight, always shoot for center mass. We may or may not be able to quickly de-escalate the situation, we’ll have to see. Follow my orders and don’t do anything stupid. If I tell you to stay put, you stay put, got it?”

“Yes, got it.” They shot through the streets, and Megan looked at James to distract herself from the speed they were driving. He looked tense, his toned chest heaving with each breath, panting despite the fact that they hadn’t really been exercising much at all. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, although every now and then, Megan noticed him take a deeper breath and consciously loosen the grip he had with his metal hand. She idly wondered how many steering wheels he had accidentally crushed in a panic mode. Her eyes traveled further, to his belt full of weapons, obscuring his hips completely, and she wondered how he could comfortably carry around that much gear.

“Stop staring at me,” Bucky murmured as he made a sharp turn.

“I—sorry, I, um, was just…”

“If you’re going to stare at me, at least do it someplace I can stare back at you,” he said, a sly grin crossing his face and some of his tenseness evaporating.

Megan stared at him, feeling her face warm up. “Are you…”

“We’ll be there in a second,” James said, and Megan thought that surely she must have been mistaken in thinking that he was flirting with her, as his serious looked snapped back into place. “If, at any point, I tell anyone to put their hands up, that’s a signal to you to open the door, stay behind it, and point your sidearm at one of the men. Don’t move away from behind the door unless I tell you to.”

“Got it.” She swallowed hard, the gravity of the situation hitting her, and she felt herself tense up like James as they neared the blacktop and she saw a two groups of men with tattooed skin poking out of their ratty winter jackets speaking to each other. Many of them had their hands in their pockets, and none of them looked in the least bit impressed.

“Don’t worry; we’ve got a fairly lenient stand with them, so they usually don’t give us too much trouble,” James murmured as he swung them police car onto the blacktop, stopping just a couple feet in front of the gangs and cutting the sirens. Flashes of blue and red on the brick of the school ahead of them told Megan that he had kept the lights on. James tapped his radio. “Come in, guys, where are you?”

“Here,” a voice replied through the radio, and another police cruiser swung into place behind James’. In a minute, there were three other cars in front of the gang, who had turned to fix their glare on the policemen. It was a little unnerving, but Megan could feel her adrenaline pumping. This is what she was here for.

James opened the car door and stepped out, keeping it in front of his body like a shield, just as he had instructed Megan to do. “Clear out!” He yelled. “You’re past the boundaries we’ve set for you. Move this elsewhere and we won’t interfere.”

“We shouldn’t be held by these stupid restrictions!” One of the gangsters replied, causing a cheer to erupt from their side. James’ flesh hand rested on the handle of his Beretta M9, still sitting in the holster on his hip.

“Don’t push your luck. We’re authorized to use force if necessary.”

One of the gangsters let out a string of curses, and whipped his hand out of his pocket to reveal a gun. A loud bang filled the air, punctuated by a sharp metallic clang as Bucky knocked the bullet out of the air with his metal arm before it hit him. “Drop your weapon! Hands up, all of you! Get out of here or we’ll shoot!”

Remembering the signal, Megan scrambled out of the car, staying behind the door as she pulled out her Glock and aimed it at one of the gangsters. In her peripheral vision, she could see that all the other policemen had done the same, and now five guns were pointed at the gangs. They were still outnumbered, but it was a good show of force.

Another one of the gangsters whipped out his gun, and there was a loud bang before the man collapsed onto the ground, blood pouring from his head. Megan glanced over at James and realized that it had been him who had fired the gun, with deadly accuracy, into the head rather than center mass, where all policemen were told to shoot for.

 _But I guess he’s not really a policeman._ The thought was strangely frightening.

“Anyone else want to try that?” James yelled, and the gangsters reluctantly removed their hands from their pockets.

“It’s not worth it,” one of the men, who Megan assumed was the leader of one of the gangs. “Let’s do what he said and clear out.”

After a bit of debating and glancing at the dead man, the other gang agreed, leaving with a string of curses at the policemen. Nobody lowered their weapons until they were sure they were gone, and James walked briskly toward the man that he had shot, feeling his neck for a pulse. “Send an ambulance over here,” he called out. “No rush. He’s dead.”

~

“I try not to shoot back if they shoot at _me_ ,” James explained to Megan as they sat in a coffee shop. The other officers had told James that he should take a break after such a high-pressure event, and James had eventually relented and driven him and Megan to the little coffee shop in town. “The problem is, they very quickly realize that shooting at me doesn’t work. So they try and shoot someone else—and that’s when I’ll step in and kill them before that happens. I saw him raising his gun and it wasn’t pointing at me, so I shot him. Simple as that.”

“For someone who just killed a man, you seem awfully calm.”

“He’s one of the bad ones,” James shrugged.

“You seem to me to be more of a vigilante than policeman type.”

James shrugged. “You’re not wrong. But Sam convinced me I’d feel better if I did it all above-board. I can’t keep breaking the law.”

“Interesting.” Megan picked up her iced coffee and took a sip.

“What kind of monster drinks iced coffee in December?” James asked, making a face as he carefully picked up his mug of hot coffee with his flesh hand.

Megan laughed. “I’m sorry, I just love iced coffee.”

“You never did answer me earlier, you know,” Janes said suddenly.

“Answer what?”

“Why you decided to apply for a job here.”

Megan shrugged. “I signed up to be a policeman because I want to help protect people. What better place than here?”

“So you moved to this state to get a job here?” James raised his eyebrows. “I may not have read your criminal record—and I don’t know why we would have hired you if you have one—”

Megan sighed deeply. “Let’s be clear on that. I don’t have a criminal record, but it’s mentioned that I have some personal involvement in… a cold case.”

“Maybe you’d like to explain?”

Megan closed her eyes and exhaled deeply before replying. “When I was young, my family lived in Brooklyn. My dad drove through here to get home from work when the highway was too backed up, sometimes. He knew it was notoriously dangerous, so he only came through here occasionally. One night, when I was about fourteen, I was sick, and Mom was working night shift, so he promised me he’d come home and get me some medicine and make me some soup. The highway was backed up and he… he obviously went this way so that he could get home sooner.” Megan swallowed hard. “He never came home. They found his phone near here a couple days later, and eventually found his body buried in a field a few miles from here. They theorized that he had been carjacked, and…” Megan shook her head. “And I decided, right then and there, that I was going to work to stop that sort of thing from happening. I became obsessed with my dad’s hunting rifles, practicing in the fields to learn how I could defend myself, should I ever be in the situation my dad was. He wasn’t prepared, but I would be. And I decided to be a police officer. This neighborhood…” she stared out the window. “There are good people here. Good people driving through here. And they need our help.”

James stared at her. “And they never found the murderer?”

“No, that’s the worst part. If they had just found him… maybe we could get some closure. But they didn’t. My mom and I moved away after that, to Boston. But I can’t stay away. This place needs help, and I’m here for it.”

“What does your mother think of it?”

“She’s terrified of what will happen to me, so she’s pretty opposed to it. But I know that a part of her understands, and a part of her is proud of me. And that’s enough.”

“You make my motives sound very selfish,” James chuckled humorlessly. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. I’ll see if I can review the file for your father and see if there’s anything I can look into, if you’d like.”

“I don’t know. If we still can’t find him… I’m not sure I could deal with that again.” She blinked and studied her iced coffee. Silence fell between them before she looked up at James. “So what’s your story, Sergeant?”

James smiled slightly. “Everyone knows my story.” He took a sip of coffee.

“We know what we heard. You could have read my file, but you still wouldn’t know the whole story until you heard it from me.”

“Fair enough.” James shrugged his metal shoulder, taking another sip of coffee and making no move to answer her question.

Well, clearly she wasn’t getting anywhere with that. “You’re saying I’m a monster for drinking iced coffee in winter, but you drink black coffee with no cream or sugar. I think that’s the real crime here.”

James snorted. “I want coffee, not a diluted mixture of milk and sugar.”

“When last have you tried coffee with cream?”

“I don’t know.” James shrugged. “I don’t need it.”

“You should give it a try! Otherwise you’ll never know if you’d really like it better.”

James’ phone rang, and he dug it out of his pocket. Seconds later, he was talking animatedly. “Hey, Clint, what’s up? What? ...Go get a ladder, Barton... What the—I’m at work. Go bother someone else... No, I’m not coming over to get the cat out of the tree, you can do that... Oh, come on. Don’t you have zip line arrows or whatever?” She could hear outraged squawking on the other side, and James sighed. “Call Sam, he’s the one with wings... I don’t care if it’s my cat, I’m working while you’re getting yourself stuck in trees! She could have actually waited until I got home, sheesh. Bye, Clint... Yes, I’m leaving now... Hey, don’t blackmail me like that… I’m not driving an hour to rescue you from a tree. Yeah. Sorry. Final answer. Bye Clint.” He put the phone down and stared at it with a wrinkled nose, slowly shaking his head as Megan burst into laughter.

“Did _Hawkeye_ just get himself stuck in a tree?”

“He’s an idiot,” James replied, unable to stop himself from laughing with her. “My cat got stuck in a tree, so he decided to challenge himself to climb the tree to get her down. Using arrows. I don’t even know how that worked, but now he can’t get down, and he’s somehow got the idea that this is my fault.”

“You have a cat?”

“I do. A little white girl named Alpine.”

“I honestly wouldn’t have put you as a cat guy. I’ve got two Siberian cats.”

“From Siberia?” James raised his eyebrows, an odd look flickering over his face.

Megan frowned. “No, it’s just where the breed started. They’re beautiful cats, really. Long haired and apparently naturally hypoallergenic, although that’s not really an issue with me. I’ve entered them in cat shows before and am considering breeding them.”

“So your hobby outside of guns is breeding Russian cats?” James stared at her as if she were the strangest creature he’d ever seen. She knew for a fact she wasn’t.

“And showing them. Hey, don’t look at me like that. Cats are a perfectly valid hobby.” Megan folded her arms and glared at him.

“What? I never said it wasn’t.”

“Your expression said it all, _Sergeant_.”

“I swear, I didn’t—oh, don’t get all sassy with me.” He laughed. “You finished your coffee? We need to get back to work.”

“What are we doing now?”

“Just patrolling. Checking on traffic and looking out for anything suspicious. Pop quiz—what are some of the signs that someone might be carrying drugs?”

“If they’re driving a rented car like a minivan or SUV, have the spare tire in the backseat to maximize space in the back, or driving slowly up and down a street that is known to be a haven for drug dealers.”

“Nice job. You’ve definitely got the book smarts. Time to test them out a bit. We’re a bit too early or late for drug dealers right now, so we’ll stick with monitoring traffic for a little while, maybe near one of the schools.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Megan connect a little during some physical training, and Megan learns a little about James.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for discussion of murder and an ex. Not at all related, I promise lol. All pretty mild in this chapter other than that. I think. Feel free to correct me or suggest more warnings lol.
> 
> And comments give me life so feel free to make some!

James sat in his office, waiting for Megan to arrive and idly browsing through some screenshots from the security footage from the previous week’s convenience store gunman incident. It wasn’t really his job at all to be looking at them, yet he was curious, so why not?

He checked his watch again—almost noon. He had asked Megan to come in around that time so that she could stay later to experience the nighttime rush of calls and the increased intensity of the work. He wanted her to be ready for what this place could throw at her. It had been a week since she had first arrived, and already he was seeing her start to get the hang of police work. She would still remain as his sort of intern for about a month though, if he had any say in it. It wasn’t safe out there alone.

But then, she already knew that, didn’t she? James found himself navigating back to the file they had on her from the interview, and he glanced nervously back at the door before opening the file. There was a link to her father’s file there, and he clicked hurriedly on it.

Timothy Hayes, age 52. Discovered dead in Nellwood Field on February 8th, 2010, after being filed as a missing person on February 1st of the same year. A rough timeline of events followed the summary, and James read through it with interest. As Megan had stated, he was last seen leaving work, and cell phone pings had him in this city when they suddenly cut out. He continued scrolling down, reading through the cause of death—one bullet to the back of the head. A shiver ran down James’ spine at the familiarity of the killing. At least it wasn’t the most brutal killing, he supposed.

He was looking through the photos of the dead victim at the site he was found, when he heard someone step into the room. James hastened to slam the laptop shut, and turned in his chair to look at Megan, who had raised an eyebrow. “You watching porn or something?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Then what is it you don’t want me to see?”

“Good morning to you too,” James retorted. “It’s not your place to question what I’m looking at. Not all officers have clearance to see the files I’m allowed into.”

“Okay, calm down.” Megan leaned casually against the doorframe, and James tried not to look at her slim but muscular figure with as much interest as he felt. He did, however, notice that her brown curls were messier than they had been yesterday, falling over the left side of her head and her forehead, stopping just short of her dark brown eyes. He wondered if she had some Hispanic blood in her. “You going to talk, or just keep sizing me up?”

“Oh, stop being so…” James waved his hand, searching for the right word and not finding it. “You’re not very good at being respectful to authority.”

“I’m being myself. Sorry if you don’t like that. Not sure why I should change for you.”

“You’re being very snappy today.”

“You’re being weird today,” she shot back, and Bucky snorted.

“How’s your self-defense? I’m thinking we could start with that before our night shift begins.”

“Okay.”

“Might wake you up a bit,” he muttered as he walked past her, out the door.

“I’m awake already.”

“Mmhmm.” James entered the practice room and began wrapping his flesh hand, tossing her another roll of the tape as she entered after him. After finishing the wrapping, Megan pulled off her belt and placed it on the gym floor, followed by her police shirt, revealing a white tank top underneath. She turned her head toward James, and he quickly looked away, taking off his own belt and pulling his shirt off. He, too, was wearing a sleeveless shirt underneath.

Soon, Megan was punching at the gloves James wore on his hands. “So how was last night?” James asked.

“Fine.”

“That bad?”

Megan glared at him before hitting his glove as hard as she could. She landed a few more hits before speaking. “My ex showed up at my door. He was waiting for me when I got back from work.”

“Is he dangerous?” James asked, lowering his hands in alarm.

Megan shook her head quickly. “Just a jerk.” James nodded and raised his hands again. “He told me I looked good in uniform. Asked me how my cats were doing. Acting as if there was still a chance for us.”

“I take it there isn’t,” James chuckled, noticing the intensity of her punches increasing.

“No, there isn’t. He cheated on me and then blamed me for it, of all things.”

James frowned. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah, ‘cause I wasn’t ready for that yet. So he had to look elsewhere, apparently.”

“As if it’s not possible to be celibate for a hot minute.”

“Right?” Megan stood up straight, dropping her arms. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be telling all this to you.”

James shrugged. “If we’re going to be working together, we might as well be friends. Besides, I asked.”

“Guess I’m running out of people to talk to in real life,” Megan laughed, looking a little embarrassed.

“I hope you kicked his butt and sent him home,” James smiled.

“I yelled at him and then told him he wasn’t worth even that, and stormed inside. He was all apologetic, but I didn’t give him a chance. He doesn’t deserve one.” She sighed. “How was your evening? Surely better than mine. Did Hawkeye ever get out of the tree last week? I never asked.”

James laughed. “He did, but he was still grumbling at me for it the whole night long. Sam had to rescue him. I made a midnight meal of pancakes, which seemed to appease him somewhat. Last night… let’s see. Sam told us that we either had to have Therapy Night or clean the house, since Shuri is coming over this weekend, and we all chose to clean the house. Then I nearly had a seizure from some video game Wanda was playing, and I was ordered to go to bed by Sam. I think Clint still thinks I was just trying to get out of cleaning.”

“Uh, that’s eventful.” Megan stared at him. “Therapy Night is a thing? And you get seizures?”

“Yeah, Sam insists on us ‘talking about our feelings’ sometimes. It’s supposed to be every Monday, but Clint, Wanda, and I both oppose it enough that it only happens every other week or so.” He hesitated. “And, yeah. I’m a little bit epileptic. I’ve got some brain damage from all the... experimenting.” He waved his hand and cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Right, uh, sorry I asked.”

“No, no, I was actually supposed to tell you earlier. Kind of important. I’m on medication so it shouldn’t happen but if it does, just, uh, wait it out.”

“But what if you’re driving?”

“As I said, I’m on meds, so it’s very unlikely it would happen. It’s only if I’m exposed to bright flashing lights or--”

“Um, dude, you’re a policeman. Flashing lights are literally everywhere.”

“Electronic--oh, I don’t know. Suffice to say that it's never happened at work. I’ll be fine. I take the meds right before I go to sleep, because they make me drowsy--so it’s when its closer to that time that I’m more at risk. It’s fine. The meds work.”

“Okay,” Megan said reluctantly.

They moved onto more hand-to-hand fighting, and James was surprised to see how Megan managed to hold her own against him--granted, he wasn’t using his full force on her, but rather trying to replicate someone who wasn’t a supersoldier. Eventually, James got Megan pinned to the ground.

“This isn’t fair,” Megan groaned. “You’re.... An enhanced person and I’m not.”

“You ever fought someone who is high on drugs?” James asked, standing up and reaching out a hand to help Megan off the ground. “And, for the record, I’m going easy on you.”

“You’re awful,” Megan groaned, accepting his hand and standing up. James grinned, pleased at the rapport they had gathered with each other over the past week. A close-knit relationship with all the policemen could only help them in any sort of dangerous situation.

“Yeah, Sam and Clint would agree with you.”

“Why is Clint living at the compound anyway? Doesn’t he have a family?”

“Yeah. He and Sam are working on a project of some sort and so he’s just staying for a couple of weeks. I don’t know what that project is, but the fact that Shuri’s coming over probably means it’s something tech-related. Could be something to do with his hearing aids; he’s been having some trouble with them lately. And, Clint being Clint, that means he just doesn’t bother with them a lot of the time, which causes frustration for everybody. He’s trying to teach us sign language.”

“Right, I forgot that he’s deaf.”

“Yeah. You remember pretty quickly when you’re around him. He uses it to his advantage whenever he can.”

“Wait, so who stays at the compound when Clint isn’t there? Just you, Sam, and Wanda?”

“The kid—Spider-Man, I’m not allowed to tell you who he is—sometimes stays over for a night. And Morgan and Pepper live there, of course. Wanda likes to play with Morgan. Happy’s there too. So no, there’s quite a few of us. Not everyone’s gone.” He smiled sadly, then shook his head. “Anyway, enough chit-chat.”

“‘Chit-chat’? How old are you?” Megan snorted.

“Old enough to be your grandpa,” James grinned slyly. “And don’t you forget it, you little whippersnapper.”

“Oh, _shut up_.” She hesitated. “What is your birthday, anyway?”

“Beat me at a wrestling match and I might tell you.” Without hesitation, Megan leaped forward, grabbing James’ wrist and attempting to fling him to the ground. He stumbled slightly, surprised at the speed of the attack, and she used the moment to kick his legs out from under him and get him onto the mat.

“Gotcha.”

“Impressive,” James snorted, sitting up. “March 10th, 1917.”

“Wait, seriously? But you went to the war in…”

“1943. 26 years old. I’m not lying.”

“But it’s 2023. That makes you…”

“Minus five years,” James cut in quickly.

“You didn’t live through the blip either?”

James shook his head. “And by the way, you’re going to work out my age here and I get that, but I wasn’t really… you know, _actually_ alive for half that time. I was on ice; it kind of stops everything—”

“I was actually going to subtract those years. So you’d be 101, but how many years did you spend with Hydra?”

“‘45 to 2014.”

“So, 69. So you’re basically 32.”

James stared at her for a moment. “Not sure why I’ve never worked that out myself. You might want to add a year or two on for the time that I was actually awake with Hydra.”

“When did they keep you awake?”

“Only for missions, or if they wanted to test on me, or if I got sick.”

“Oh.”

“Can we not talk about this?” James forced a laugh and turned toward the door. “You want to go shoot something?”

“What?”

“Shooting practice.”

“Shouldn’t we be, like, actually out doing something?”

“There’s not a whole lot going on. I just want to shoot something.” He laughed wryly. “Okay, let’s go to my office; I should check my emails quick.”

“Okay.” They walked back to his office, and James felt that familiar pang of sadness and frustration because of what Hydra had taken from him. A whole life—so many years, and now here he was, in an entirely new world, trying to figure out what had changed and what he had missed. He flopped down in his office chair and unthinkingly opened his laptop, startling at the image he still had pulled up and clicking off of it quickly.

“Was that a body?” Megan asked from behind him.

“You don’t want to know,” James murmured, realizing with a pang that she hadn’t recognized him. They had found him in a state of decay, of course, hardly recognizable to anyone. He wouldn’t want her to see anything like that.

“Someone you killed?”

James turned his head to stare at her. “What makes you say that?”

“Because his head—he was shot in his head, I think, from the .5 seconds you gave me to look. And I’d assume, from what I know about you and stealth and last week’s gang incident, you’re the type to shoot the head without them knowing you’re there.”

James shivered and turned back to the computer. “You’re good. But no, it wasn’t.”

“So that is your style?”

“Meg, my ‘style’ _was_ whatever they wanted it to be. I I know a lot of ways to murder someone, and I’ve used all of them. Please don’t ask me about it anymore. I can’t have this conversation right now.”

“Sorry.”

“Mm.” James sighed and clicked to his emails. “We’re having the drug dogs come in tomorrow,” he murmured. “We’ve got intel on a possible meth lab, so we’ll do a drug bust there and focus on pulling over suspicious vehicles for the dogs. And we’ll hit up some of the high schools and have the dogs test them out for any drugs hidden in lockers.”

“Sounds interesting,” she murmured distractedly.

“What’s bugging you?”

“Hm? Nothing.”

“You’re distracted. Is it your ex?”

“Well—no, not really. Just… you just called me Meg.”

“Did I? Sorry about that. That was... overstepping.”

“No, no, I just—my dad used to call me Meg, and nobody else has since then. It’s just weird to hear it again.”

James looked at his hands, unsure of how to reply. “I’m sorry.”

Megan shook her head slowly. “Why are you talking to me, anyway? Why are you telling me so much? I thought, after all you’ve been through, you would be more withdrawn, you know?”

James turned back to his computer and rubbed at a patch of dirt on the desk. “I want you to trust me,” he admitted finally. “I need you to trust me. I need everyone that’s working under me to believe that I’m not the monster so many believe I am.”

“I knew that from the moment I met you,” Megan chuckled quietly.

“Did you now? Because you looked terrified.”

“Anyone starting a new job and meeting their boss is terrified. But you’ve got that kindness in your eyes that made me feel safe. You remind me of him.”

“Your dad?” James frowned. “Wasn’t really going for the father-figure, but okay.”

“No,” Megan laughed. “You make me feel safe, and you make me laugh. Just like he did. Why, what were you going for?”

“I don’t know. A friend.” He pulled at a piece of metal on his arm that looked a bit skew. This conversation was going a little further than he was comfortable with. He picked up his radio and turned it off of the silent mode he had set it on. “Hey, what’s up? Anything Officer Hayes and I could help out with?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a more boring chapter IMO; next one will be more interesting, I promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for attempted rape and mild threats.

“We should head out to the theater,” James suggested from the driver’s seat. It was just starting to get dark. “We’ve got until midnight to work—you’ll see how things get.”

“Why the theater?”

“Because a lot of people will be going there, to watch one of the plays. There’ll be homeless people trying to beg for money that we have to politely keep back, and young ladies walking to the bus stops. There’s also a variety of alleyways back there where we might be able to catch a drug deal. It’s a good place to patrol, trust me.”

“Got it.”

James parked the car near the theater, and they climbed out. Megan stood next to James, watching as he directed the flow of people. He was carefully looking at each person in turn, something Megan found fascinating. The way he scrutinized her didn’t seem to be a one-off thing, but rather just something he did. She wondered if his time with Hydra had made him inherently suspicious of everyone. The thought made her frown, and he glanced over in concern.

“See something suspicious?”

“No, no, just thinking about something.”

“Stay focused, Hayes. Now isn’t the time to zone out.”

A flash of irritation shot through Megan. _I was concerned about_ you, _for goodness sake_. She shook her head to clear it and stepped a short distance away.

“Excuse me, miss,” a woman said, stepping up to her. “Could you tell me how to get to Washington Square from here? I thought it was just down this street, but this doesn’t look right.”

“I’m afraid it’s a couple miles away still. I’d suggest you take a taxi; it’s not safe out here at night, and it’s rather a far walk.”

“Thank you,” the woman smiled. “I’ll see if I can flag one down.”

Megan nodded and watched as the woman walked off, then jumped as a heavy hand rested on her shoulder and a tall figure leaned in close to her. She turned her head, half-expecting to see James, but instead stared into the face of a rather mean-looking man. “What are you doing as a police officer, you pretty thing? That’s much too dangerous and lowly a job for you.”

“Get your hands off of me,” Megan said firmly, reaching for her pepper spray.

“Oh, relax,” the man chuckled coolly, taking a step back. Megan looked him over, and startled slightly as she noticed the skull-faced octopus tattoo on his neck that was the symbol of Hydra. “I just thought maybe you’d like to take a break. I’ll buy you a drink.”

“No thank you. What’s your name? Are you affiliated with Hydra?”

“Questions I would prefer not to answer,” the man purred. “I see you’re working with the man himself. Be careful. He’s not what he seems.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He might have the trigger words removed from his brain, but the Winter Soldier is still inside him, and it can still come out. I know. Trust me, I know.”

“Be careful what you say,” Megan snapped. “I am the authority here.”

“You have no reason to bring me in,” the man pointed out with a smirk. “I touched your shoulder, that’s all. And this tattoo is old. Not all ex-Hydra men are criminals.”

Megan’s new radio crackled on her shoulder, and James’ voice spoke up. “Hayes, come in. Where are you? We’ve got an alert to attend to. Meet me back at the vehicle.”

Megan glanced briefly at the radio, and when she looked back up, the man had vanished. She blinked, and slowly pressed the button on her radio. “Yeah, on my way.”

***

“We’ve got an alert from an app that this woman has—its one of those where you press a button when you start walking somewhere, and if you don’t press it again within the time it would take you to get to your destination, it’ll automatically inform the police of your location,” James explained as Megan climbed into the passenger’s seat. “I love those apps.”

“Yeah, that’s helpful,” Megan agreed. “Where did you go out there?”

“There was a homeless man trying to get attention by the theater entrance, so I walked over. Why didn’t you follow me?”

“I just had the weirdest experience.”

James glanced at her from behind the wheel and frowned. “What happened?”

“Some guy approached me and offered to buy me a drink, nothing new, really, but his whole demeanor was a little strange, and he had a Hydra tattoo on his neck.” She noticed James almost imperceptibly tighten his grip on the steering wheel. “And then he just randomly started… warning me about you. And then you radioed me and he just disappeared. I looked away for one second; I don’t know how he did it. I’m sorry about that; I should have stopped him.”

“You had no grounds to,” James replied, sounding a bit tense. “What did he look like?”

“Tall, blonde buzz-cut, pale blue eyes. Had a post through his eyebrow.”

James frowned and shrugged. “Could even just be a Hydra fanatic who is obsessed with me. I’ve had that before. There’s nothing to say that he’s actually Hydra.” He hesitated. “There’s not supposed to be any Hydra left around here, so let’s just hope he’s not.” He stopped the car on the side of the road, keeping his lights flashing. “She’s near here. Come on, and be quiet.”

Megan nodded, getting out of the car and walking behind James, who was somehow walking almost silently into an alleyway, looking down at his phone. They walked for a couple minutes, until Megan started to open her mouth. James held up his hand to stop her, and suddenly she began to hear muffled voices.

“There, you have my money, please let me go,” a woman’s voice said, sounding terrified.

“But that’s not a very fun option,” a man’s voice hissed. “Why don’t we have a little fun first?”

James’ eyes darkened, and he signaled for Megan to stay put. She nodded, and watched as he disappeared into the shadows. A moment later, she saw him step into the light directly next to the man, pressing his gun against the man’s temple.

“NYPD. Let her go,” James growled.

The man’s eyes widened, and he raised his hands over his head. “Look, man, it wasn’t what it looked like—”

“Mhmm.” James signaled Megan over, and she had the suspect put his hands behind his back and handcuffed him, as the woman let out a breath of relief, shaking. “I’ve got it,” James murmured to Megan, pulling the man toward the exit of the alleyway.

Megan nodded and approached the woman, gently touching her arm. “Are you alright?”

The woman nodded. “I am, thanks to you.”

“That’s great news. Would you mind coming in and giving us a statement? Officer Barnes there will send a car, and we can head over there together.”

The woman agreed, and Megan took her in to the police station, driven by another policeman whom James had sent. Megan and James had to give their own statements as well, and by the time that was over, James told Megan that she could go ahead and go home.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, finally, things are getting interesting. We're not at the main mystery yet, but we've got some interesting activity happening here. And we get to see the attraction James and Megan may or may not have to each other ;)  
> Also, I don't know about the rest of you, but I've always seen Clint as just being really mischievous and as someone who would enjoy teasing everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mention of people getting shot in the head, break-ins, ex-boyfriends/stalkers. Think that's all I have to warn you about.

James settled on the couch, exhaling deeply as he listened to Clint and Sam argue about where to order pizza from. It was finally Friday, and a whole weekend of no work finally was spread in front of him. “As long as it’s New York Style, I’m happy,” James cut in.

“Giant slices of pizza,” Clint said dreamily. “Totally agree.”

“But Domino’s—”

“Domino’s sucks,” James snorted.

“I win!” Clint cheered. He moved to the kitchen to find the number for his favorite pizza place, while Sam grumbled about losing.

“How was work?” Sam finally asked.

James shrugged one shoulder, stretching himself out on the couch and propping his socked feet on the other end. “Fine. Exhausting.”

“And the intern? How is she coming along?”

“She’s doing pretty well, actually. She’s got a lot better with guns, and she’s very observant.”

“Fast learner, then?”

“She knew how to handle herself before she came here. But yeah, she’s an avid student. When she’s not zoning out, of course. On Tuesday, she had her mind on something else the entire time.”

“Any idea what that was?”

“Her father, I think. He was murdered a while back, in that city, and they never did solve the case.”

“Oh? She told you about that?”

“To be fair, I kind of pressed her on it because she mentioned something about having a history, and I’m her employer, after all. But, yeah. She didn’t want me looking into it.”

“I bet you did, though,” Clint called from the kitchen.

“Why are you deaf when we want you to hear but not when we don’t?” Bucky called out. Clint laughed and walked into the room again, carrying three beers.

“Peace treaty,” he quipped, passing one each to James and Sam.

“Thanks. And yes, I did look it up. The police suspect that he was carjacked and later just shot so that he wouldn’t have any evidence against them. But the car was abandoned not far away. I just don’t feel that the story adds up. Not to mention that I can’t find any information on where her father worked or anything. It’s more than a little strange.”

“Why don’t you ask her where he worked?” Sam asked, taking a swig of beer.

James followed suit, enjoying the refreshingly bitter taste. “I don’t want her to know I’ve been looking into it, I guess. Don’t want her hopes to get too high. Besides—I’m not qualified to take on the case. I’m not a detective at all.”

“So why are you looking into it?” Clint grinned. “You like her, don’t you?”

James glared at him. “She’s just working with me. Nothing else. Get that thought out of your head—I’m not available anyway.”

“Why, you dating someone?” Sam asked, leaning forward.

“What? No, I mean—I’m not…”

Clint crossed his arms. “If you’ve taken yourself off of the board because of your history, you’re an idiot.”

James threw the cap of his beer at Clint’s head, which his friend easily dodged, laughing. “I’m going to read,” James grumbled, pulling his book, _Catch 22_ , off the table.

Time passed quickly as he read, pausing briefly to grab a slice of the pizza when it arrived. “Nothing’s going to draw his attention away from that book,” Sam snorted as he and Clint played a video game.

“Nope,” James agreed. Reading reminded him of the old times, when Steve would try to convince him that reading was the best thing ever, and James would laugh and play along. A star student himself, James didn’t disagree, just thought it was amusing how much Steve loved books. Just a shrimpy little bookworm. It was amazing how much the serum had changed him.  
James was lost in those melancholy thoughts when the ringing of his phone interrupted them. Clint paused the game and leaned over to look at James’ phone.

“Oooh, it’s Megan,” he cooed.

“Shut up,” James grumbled.

“If you let her distract you from your book, I’m going to have to officially say you like her,” Sam teased.

“That’s true,” Clint agreed. “Because we’ve tried, like, three times, to talk to you, and been unsuccessful every time.”

James set his jaw. “I’m reading.”

The phone stopped ringing after a minute, only to instantly start ringing again. James reluctantly sat up, reaching for the phone.

“So you do!” Clint exclaimed.

James picked up the phone and glared at Clint. “Oh, eff you, it could be important.”

“You’re breaking the no swearing rule?” Sam called triumphantly.

“Shut up.” He spoke into the phone. “Hey. Sorry.”

“That was quite a greeting,” Megan’s voice said, and under the laugh, James could clearly hear the tremor in her voice.

“Are you alright?” He ignored the expressions the other guys made at that comment.

“Um… yeah, I—I think someone’s in my house.”

“What?” James jumped up off the couch, and Clint raised an eyebrow.

“If you’re going to see her, don’t forget to put some pants on,” he quipped.

“Why aren’t you wearing pants?” Megan asked with a breathy laugh.

James glared at his friend. “I am, he’s just trying to—you know, never mind. Where are you now? In the house?”

“No, I stopped off to do some grocery shopping and came back to see my front door wide open and a shadow moving around inside. So I drove past and I’m parked down the street.”

“Good. Have you called the police?”

“No, I—I mean, we’re the police, do I still…”

“You’re not in control of that jurisdiction, and you’re off-duty. Of course you still call the police. Like, 911. Now, as in five minutes ago. What’s your street?”

“Everything okay?” Sam murmured in the background, and James put the phone on loudspeaker as he grabbed his boots and started putting them on.

“Ingleside Drive, off of East street. I’m on the side closest to East, in my Jeep.”

“Got it. I’m on my way. Should be there in about twenty minutes. In the meantime, call the police right now and get them down there.”

“Okay,” she said. “I guess I have to say goodbye to do that.”

“Yep. Stay safe, okay? Don’t move from where you are unless it seems to be dangerous.”  
“Got it. See you in a minute.”

“Bye.” James put the phone down and grabbed his leather jacket and gloves, shoving them on as he hurried out the door. “I’m sorry, guys, someone has broken into her house. I’ve got to run. They might still be there.”

“It’s not your job to take care of her,” Clint reasoned. “And it’s gonna take longer than twenty minutes.”

“Don’t care, I’m taking the cruiser. See you in about an hour.” He hurried out the door before they had a chance to argue.

***

James arrived with his lights flashing, just after the other policemen had arrived. A few were talking to Megan, while other police vehicles, evident by their flashing lights, were parked around what James assumed was Megan’s house, further up the street. He hopped out of the car and hurried over to her, just as the policemen left to go chat to another group, who were returning from the house.

“Hey,” James said, and she jumped at his voice, then relaxed when she turned and saw it was him. He could see the stress lines around her eyes, and how tensely she was holding herself.

“Hi,” she murmured, sounding exhausted. “You’ve got the black outfit going strong. What’s up with the gloves?”

James looked down at his black denim pants, black leather jacket, black boots, and black gloves with a rueful smile. “This is my ‘I’m totally normal, I don’t have a metal arm or anything’ look,” he quipped. “Come here, you should sit down.” He sat down on the curb, and she hesitated for a second before joining him. He put his arm tentatively around her, and to his surprise, she leaned into him, snuggling closer.

“Thanks for coming,” she murmured.

“What are the police saying?” James asked, not sure how else to reply.

“He wasn’t there when they came in, so he probably got out through the back door after I passed. Now I feel like an idiot for not just going in and catching him then and there.”

“That could have been dangerous. You put your safety first—that’s not a bad thing. It was an unexpected circumstance, and it’s not as if you’re armed.” He looked at her outfit, consisting of a soft blue wool sweater and jeans. She looked comfortable and completely different than she did at work. Not in a bad way, either, James realized with a pang.

“Mm. The scariest thing is that there isn’t any sign of a break-in. Which means he had a key.”

James’ eyes widened. “You sure you didn’t leave a door unlocked?”

“Positive. I always lock all my doors; it’s a habit of mine to check them constantly.”

“Who has a key, or who has had access to your key to make a copy?”

“I’ve been asking myself that question over and over again. There’s only my mom, my best friend Lindsay, and, I guess, my ex, who I gave a key to to take care of my cats while I was away for a week.”

James sighed. “Then it’s probably him, Meg.” He grimaced, realizing his mistake. “Sorry—Hayes.”

“No, I never said I minded it,” Megan said with a small smile up at him. “Go ahead and call me that. We’re not exactly in a professional setting anyway.”

“True. But only if you call me James.”

“Alright, James, I don’t see how it could be my ex.”

“Describe him to me?”

“He was… the football player in high school type, you know. The one everyone wanted. We met at a college dance, and he picked me out and I felt so special. It was at the time when I was thinking about my career very seriously, and becoming a bit obsessed with learning about guns, really facing my dad’s murder and thinking about how that effected me.”

“So he met you when you were vulnerable.”

Megan frowned. “I guess. Anyway, he always promised to protect me, to keep me safe and not let what happened to my father, happen to me.”

“Did he ever say something along the lines of, ‘I won’t let anyone else touch you’?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“That’s a sign of someone who might become a stalker. When did you two break up?”

“Not long ago. Just before the snap. But he hasn’t bothered me until now.”

“Have you started dating anyone else since then?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Have you hung out around any men that he might be jealous of?”

She frowned. “Well, there’s you.”

James blinked. “Oh. That’s true.”

“You think he’s stalking me because he doesn’t want to see anyone else have me?” She shuddered. “That’s kind of scary.”

“Yeah.” James sighed heavily, and Megan set her head on his shoulder. A couple more policemen showed up, and James told them that they would stop by the station in the morning to give the full report. He was fairly sure Megan had fallen asleep on his shoulder, so he didn’t bother getting her opinion. Eventually, the policemen left, and James gently shook Megan’s shoulder. “Hey, Meg,” he whispered. “It’s cold out here. Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

Megan groaned, half opening his eyes to look at him. “I don’t want to be alone in a house someone has a key to. The police are watching it, but I just… don’t feel comfortable with the idea.”

“Come with me, then. The tower has plenty of rooms.” James squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

“Are you sure? Am I allowed to? Isn’t Shuri coming this weekend? Surely I can’t—”

“Don’t worry about it. There’s plenty of space. Let’s go grab some of your clothes, and we’ll get out of here. Unless you don’t feel comfortable with that, of course.”

“No, no, that’s fine. Better than fine, actually.”

“Alright, come on, sleepyhead.” James stood up and extended his right hand for her to pull herself up with.

Megan packed a suitcase as James waited on her bed, looking around the room with some interest. The walls were painted a light chocolate brown, creating a warm, cozy space. The quilt on the bed added to the cabin-like feel, and he could almost ignore how every drawer was opened, how things were thrown about—be that due to the police search or the break-in, he wasn’t sure.

Megan suddenly knelt down and opened a bottom drawer of her chest of drawers, reaching into it calmly at first, then becoming increasingly frantic, until she was throwing underwear out of the drawer in a panic.

“Are you okay?” James asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s gone, I can’t find it—I thought he hadn’t taken anything.” Her voice was carefully controlled, but he could hear the panic underneath it.

“What is, Meg? Take a deep breath, okay?”

She nodded, doing as he told. “My dad’s watch. It’s gone.”

***

“Okay, if either of you tease me about this, you’ll get a knife in your gut,” James hissed to Clint and Sam, who were still playing their video game, as he entered the living room.

“Eh? Didn’t catch that,” Clint said.

James rolled his eyes. “Guys, this is Officer Megan Hayes.”

That got their attention, and they turned around quickly, both staring at her.

“Gotta say, wasn’t expecting that,” Clint chuckled. “Hey, what’s up? Call me Clint.”

Megan gave him a small, nervous smile. “Uh, hey. Call me Megan.”

“And I’m Sam.” Sam stood up, offering his hand to Megan, who shook it politely. “I imagine there must be some pretty crazy stuff going on to have you here?”

“Someone broke into her house, as you heard. I thought she’d feel more comfortable spending the night here, especially as it looks like the suspect had a key.”

“I should call him,” Megan said suddenly, knitting her brows.

“What?” James turned to stare at her. “Call who?”

“My ex. If it was him, then I deserve an explanation.” She sounded angry now. “And how _dare_ he take my dad’s stuff. I’m not someone who’s just going to sit by and let someone walk all over me.”

“Meg, I don’t know if that's a good idea…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll put it on loudspeaker so you can hear it.” She flopped onto the couch that James had been laying on earlier, and pulled out her phone.

James hesitated before finally sitting next to her, leaving a good gap between them. “Well, I’m not going to pretend I can stop you.”

Megan grinned triumphantly and tapped her phone to call him. It was answered on the second ring.

“Have you reconsidered my offer?” A smooth voice spoke from the phone. “Decided the new guy wasn’t your type?”

“No, I haven’t, you arrogant prick,” Megan replied. “Did you break into my house?”

“Why the heck would I do that?”

“Because someone did. And you have a key.”

“Oh my god, are you okay?”

“Stop pretending to care,” Megan snapped.

“I’ve always cared about you, Megan,” he said, sounding genuinely hurt. “And I don’t even have that key anymore; you know that.”

“What? Why, what did you do with it?”

“Your boyfriend called me and said that you had asked me to give it to him. So I went to your house, asked you to reconsider, and you said no, so I gave him the key like you asked me to.”

“I didn’t ask—Timothy, I don’t have a boyfriend.” Megan blinked.

“Of course you do. Bloke with blonde hair. Looked a bit gangster for you, but apparently I’m not in a position to judge you for it.”

“He called you and said I wanted the key.”

“Yeah, and that he’d stop by the next day to get it. You didn’t want to come get it yourself.”

“Why didn’t you just give it to me that night you came by, then?”

“Hoping you’d change your mind. But I guess you like him, eh?”

“I don’t freaking _know_ him, Tim. I haven’t got a boyfriend. I didn’t ask for the key.”

There was a moment of silence. “You’re not serious?”

“I’m dead serious. You just gave my house key to some guy I don’t know, probably the guy who just broke into my house. Agh, what ever made me trust you? You stupid idiot.”

“Gee, thanks, how was I supposed to know? It’s totally your sort of move to send someone to come get your stuff from me. You remember when—”

“My house just got broken into because of your carelessness!”

“Well, looks like all’s well now, isn’t it? Calm your tits.”

“Right, it’s not your fault, is it? It never is, is it? Go to Hell.”

James grabbed her wrist just as she moved to click the end call button. “Hold up. What did this supposed boyfriend look like?”

“Oh, who’s this now?”

“A friend. Doesn’t matter. What did he look like?”

“I don’t know, short white-blonde hair, tall… oh yeah, he had this weird tattoo on his neck; a squid or something.”

Megan’s hand shot out and grabbed James’ left arm in alarm, her eyes growing in surprise. Janes looked down at his arm, unsure of how to feel. Usually his metal arm was off-limits to touch, but he found that he didn’t want to push her off.

“Right. Thank you. I might be seeing you later so that you can answer some questions.”

“What? You’ve got no right to question me, you little—”

“I do, actually,” James said briskly. “I’m Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes; you may have heard of me. I’ll be seeing you.” The line went silent, and James smirked as he ended the call. “Got him.”

“Okay, but—Sergeant—”

“If I can call you Meg, you can call me James.”

“Right. But it’s—it’s _him_.”

“The guy you saw on Tuesday night, yeah, I know.” James leaned back, blowing out a breath that puffed out his cheeks. “We’ll tell the detectives about it tomorrow when we go in to give our reports.”

“You guys are so cute, going in together for your reports and stuff.” Clint winked at them.

“Oh, shut up, or you’ll find a bullet in your head one of these days.”

“Hydra style,” Megan quipped, trying vainly to dispel some of her anxiety with a joke.

“I’m not—“ He stopped suddenly, his mouth half-open in a sudden thought. “Hold on. Your father’s watch was the only thing taken, you said?”

“Yeah. Why?”

James hesitated before continuing slowly. “Who else was shot in the head?”

Megan raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know. How am I supposed to answer that? JFK? I’m not pretending that every head shooting is by Hydra.”

Clint chuckled, and James glared at him. “How exactly is this funny?”

“Because that _was_ Hydra.”

“Still not funny,” James snapped.

“Wait, really? Some guy in Hydra killed him?” Megan looked at James, then at Clint, who pointed a finger at James. He buried his face in his hands as Megan’s eyes widened. “Wait, _you_ assassinated him?”

James looked up and directly at Megan, his expression morphing into one of confusion. “Do you not know how your father died?”

Megan paled slightly. “H-he was murdered. My mother… never told me the details. I’m not sure I wanted to know.” She swallowed hard. “You don’t mean…”

“I’m sorry, yes, I looked up the file. One bullet, back of the head. I expect they let him run a short distance, just for the fun of it, then… boom.”

Megan drew her knees up to her chest and took a deep breath, resting her forehead on her knees. James hesitantly reached across his body with his right hand to put it reassuringly on her shoulder. “Hey, I’m sorry,” he murmured.

She took another uneven breath and wiped tears off her face before looking up. “You don’t actually think this is all connected?”

“Why was his watch the only thing taken?” James tapped his thigh with his metal index finger thoughtfully. “There’s one thing I can’t find in the file. I want you to think very carefully before you answer this. Where did your father work?”

Megan tilted her head and looked at him. “He was an engineer.”

“For what company?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I ever asked.”

James bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. “Friday?”

“Yes, Mr. Barnes?” The AI responded, causing Megan to jump.

“Could you see if we have any records of a man named Timothy Hayes?”

“Certainly.” There was a brief silence before the AI spoke again. “According to my records, he was one of the top technicians for Stark Tech. He was murdered in 2010, a huge blow to Stark Industries. It appears that Tony looked into this file several times, and has some notes typed out about it. It seems that he was suspicious that Mr. Hayes may have been working on a secret project to make improvements to Stark’s weapons and comm system.”

“Can I have a copy of those notes?” James asked, and looked over the sheet that printed at a nearby printer. After a moment, he sighed. “There’s no mention of any sort of suspect, but we’ve got the word ‘HYDRA’ written in red letters, underlined, with question marks after it. But the last time this file was accessed was in 2012. Seems even Stark gave up on it.”

“You think they’re connected, then?” Clint asked, suddenly a lot more serious.

“I don’t know. A Stark Tech watch was never just a watch. That’s all I’m really thinking.”

“I’ve played with that watch many times,” Megan spoke up. “And I’ve never noticed anything odd about it.”

“But then why would someone steal it?” Sam asked. “It could be biometrically enabled or something. I think Bucky might be onto something.”

“He was picked up in a random carjacking incident. Nothing more. Don’t make this into a bigger deal than it was,” Megan snapped, pulling her hand through her dark curls.

James looked at her thoughtfully. “Do you believe that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I want to. I asked you not to look into this, James. I knew you’d end up with some sort of conspiracy theory and I—I don’t need this can of worms reopened, okay? He’s dead. What else matters?”

“How can I stay out of something that clearly bothers you and that I’ll have the highest security clearance to look into?”

“I don’t care,” Megan ground out frustratedly. “I don’t care that you’re a freaking Avenger or whatever and that you can find Tony Stark’s files and blah blah. I didn’t want you looking into it. And you did anyway.”

“Don’t you want to find his killer?” James snapped.

“You know what? After all these years? Maybe I don’t.” Megan stood up, pacing across the room and staring out the window as she obviously tried to gather her composure again.

James spoke again, and this time his voice was soft, gentle. “Look, Meg. I know what it’s like to want to forget something, I really do. But sometimes we can’t just look away. I agreed to sit at court and stare down someone who has repeatedly violated my rights, everything about me, really, and if you think that was easy, then you’re dead wrong. I’ve told the police every detail that I remember about what I’ve done, even though every single thing I remember horrifies me, makes me want to vomit—I’ve done it because it’s important that we stop people like this. Sometimes we have to face what happened, just so that other people won’t have to.”

Megan wiped her eyes with her shirtsleeve. “Can we please discuss this tomorrow? I’m exhausted.” Her voice gave away that she was on the verge of sobbing, and James’ heart went out to her.

“Where are you going to put her?” Sam asked. “All the rooms are currently prepped for the Wakandan party we’re expecting tomorrow morning.”

“Oh man, I thought it was only Shuri.” James sighed. “It’s okay, she can have my room. I’ll sleep here, on the couch.”

“I don’t mind taking the couch,” Megan protested.

“No, I don’t want visitors coming in and you having to deal with them,” James told her. “It’s fine; I’ve slept in worse places. The couch is comfortable. Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”

Megan must have been very tired, James figured, since she made no further attempts at objecting, instead just following James as he got in the elevator.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said, exhaling deeply as the elevator went down. “I understand why you’re asking these questions, and honestly, I am grateful that you’re trying to help. It’s just… as you said, it’s hard to hear it all again. I avoided the details of Dad’s case because it… it hurts. To think that he was murdered, and none of us could stop it.”

“I know.” James tentatively put an arm around her in a sideways hug, which she reciprocated, pulling him into a deeper hug and pressing her face to his chest. “Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, stroking her back.

“I’m sorry,” she finally murmured, stepping away from him. James noticed that her face was red, and she looked a bit embarrassed.

“Don’t be,” James murmured. They locked eyes for a moment before the elevator doors opened, and James cleared his throat, turning away and exiting the elevator.

“Here’s my room,” he said, unlocking a door in the hallway and opening it. Megan walked in and looked around slowly. James looked around, suddenly a little self-conscious. His walls were painted a calming light blue, and the flooring was dark wood, half-covered by a large cream-colored rug. He had a dark wood dresser, and a matching bed with a grey bedspread. “I’ve got my own bathroom, too,” James said, walking towards a door coming off the corner of the room. He walked in, showing off a room with pale green walls. There was a large spa-style bathtub on the end, next to a seperate glass-walled shower. A toilet was placed a foot or two away from the bathtub, and a vanity was across from it.

“Okay, this place is huge,” Megan finally murmured. “It's like… set up like an apartment, but it’s practically the size of my house.”

James chuckled. “It was designed by Stark, you know. He never does anything in half-measures.”

Megan sighed and moved to the bed, sitting on the edge. “So Clint ships us, huh?”

James chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck and standing near the door to the room. “I’m so sorry about you. I swear, I don’t know where that’s coming from. I only ever talk about you because they ask how work went, and when I’m spending the whole day with you--”

Megan chuckled, holding up a hand to stop him. “You don’t have to explain it. It’s more amusing than anything, honestly.”

“Good,” James said awkwardly. “You don’t find it weird that they’re… who they are?”

“They’re your friends. With a bit of an extra cool-factor.” She smiled sleepily. “You stay here any longer, and Clint’s going to start thinking we’re getting up to mischief.”

James laughed, startled by the comment. “Oh, goodness. I guess that’s my cue to leave.”

“Not really,” Megan grinned cheekily. “Feeding the rumors might be more interesting.”

“Yeah, no,” James snorted. “Goodnight, Meg.”

“No goodnight kiss?” It took James a shocked moment to realize that she was teasing him.

“Don’t mess with me, Meg,” he warned her, before leaving the room without a look back.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit different from the other chapters. We also get to meet Shuri. Have a look at the chapter notes, because I need to explain a couple little things that are cannon in this, and my reason for making them such.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all: TW for brief mention of rape.
> 
> Okay, so: it's always been my personal headcannon that Bucky was gang-raped during his time with Hydra. This isn't just because I want him to suffer--it just seems quite logical to me. They spent years trying to break Bucky, but he kept clinging to himself, refusing to let them. So what's a good way to break someone, right? Yeah, you see where I'm going with this. Something that would sort of dramatically show that they're more powerful than him and that he's really nothing.  
> Another personal headcannon is that Bucky gets siezures, varying in severity. He's had his brain messed with so many times, so to me it makes sense that he's got a bit of brain damage. A symptom of brain damage are seizures. So that explains that one.
> 
> And another thing--yeah, this story is running away from me, like most things I write tend to do. It's hard not to let a story take on a life of its own. I didn't really want Bucky's little confession to happen yet, but it did, because that's just.. what happened. And come on, Shuri would definitely tease Bucky over this whole thing ;)
> 
> Also. I love Siberian cats. They are MASSIVE, and adorable floofs. Go google them. Lol.
> 
> AND. A Dodge Charger was literally just the first sporty car that came to my mind. I know nothing about cars, so feel free to tell me if that's really the entirely wrong choice in car for him.

James drove through the street, watching as a few snowflakes landed on the windshield of his Dodge Charger. Megan sat in the passenger’s seat, staring out the window as they drove home from the police station. He shot a concerned glance at her--he could remember how stressful it was for him the first time he was questioned, and she was definitely being more quiet than usual. They stopped at a red light, and James let in the clutch as it turned green again, zooming forward to feel the power of his car.

“I’m not sure I ever pictured you in a fancy sports car,” Megan finally commented.

“Why? Too used to seeing me in a police cruiser? I’m allowed to have a fun car.”

“Yeah.” She looked out the window again. “It’s snowing. Do you like the snow?”

James shrugged. “I don’t dislike it.”

“Even though it was snowy when you fell from the train?”

James gripped the wheel tighter, then forced himself to relax after he remembered how many times he had had to have his steering wheel replaced due to the damage from his metal hand gripping it. “I’ve always lived in Brooklyn. I’m used to the snow. The snow there was just an afterthought. I was dragged through it when they found me, of course, but I suppose as long as you didn’t drag me through the snow…”

“Got it,” Megan said with a small chuckle.

“You think it’ll accumulate?” James asked.

“Probably. It’s cold enough, and the weathermen are predicting at least a couple inches.”

“Mmm. Hey, we’ll be there soon--there’ll probably be a few Wakandans there, and everyone will be on deck welcoming them. I’m thinking we can take the back entrance and avoid all that. If you don’t want to meet them, that is. It can be a bit overwhelming for me, though. Too many people everywhere, not enough control over the situation.”

“You know, I could probably just go back to my place,” Megan said suddenly. “There’s no real reason why I shouldn’t, I guess.”

“The police told me that they want to look around for anything of your dad’s that maybe the intruder was looking for. They’re also examining whatever evidence they can find—I’ve asked them to reopen your father’s case, so they’re going to be treating your house like a crime scene. You can call them up and ask if you’d be allowed to go back there, if you want.”

Megan sighed, scratching a nail along the edge of the cold window. “Okay. I’ll go back to the tower with you.”

“I could get you to your mother if you’d prefer,” James said, glancing over at her. “I’m not keeping you anywhere. I can pay for a hotel stay if you’d feel more comfortable.”

She looked at him with a small, grateful smile, before turning to look out the window again. “Let’s just… get this day over with. I can decide what I’d prefer to do later.”

“Sounds good.” James stopped at another red light and fiddled with the radio, looking for a good music channel.

“I hate the radio,” Megan muttered. “It always plays total junk.”

“Me too,” James agreed, switching it off. “Just trying to make this drive seem a bit less tense.”

“What’s tense about it?” Megan looked at him. “I’m sorry, am I making this awkward? Asking too many questions?”

“No, not at all. But you’re obviously a bit disconcerted by everything that’s happening. I can feel that.”

Megan stared at him, going silent for a moment before finally speaking in a quiet, tentative way. “Do you… do you actually like me?”

James frowned, knitting his brows in confusion. “I… you’re a good person. You’re very likeable.”

“I’m not asking whether you like me as a person.”

James shifted in his seat, staring at the red light and wishing it would turn green. “What, then? As a cat? Mm, you’d make a very interesting cat.” He winked at her, grinning cheekily.

“Oh, that reminds me! Can we stop by my place to pick up my cats? I need them.”

“Of course. It’s a bit of a detour, but cats are important.”

“Yeah, I met Alpine yesterday. She must have been hiding under the bed or something when we were in the room together, because she just appeared a couple minutes after you left.”

James grinned. “She does that.”

“Made for a good sleeping buddy,” Megan smiled. “And, James?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not trying to mess with you.”

James inhaled deeply. “Meg, I…” he trailed off as the light turned green, and he shifted his car into gear.

“You what?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. Never mind.”

“Hey, don’t chicken out now. If you like me, let me know now, so that it’s not going to be weird.”

“I don’t know that I’m ready for that yet.”

“Oh.” Megan blinked. “I’ve gotta say, that’s not what I was expecting you to say.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know. A complete denial, probably. I think that’s what most guys would go for.”

“I’ve lived long enough to know that that doesn’t work,” James said dryly. “And you are beautiful, and you’ve got this feistiness that I really like, but I’m not…” he hesitated. “I’ve killed people. I’m still in therapy, trying to work through all this stuff. I still have some of the worst nightmares you could imagine, and I wake up and it’s not gone, because I know that it really happened. I was tortured, I was raped, and yet somehow I became the monster. And he’s probably still somewhere in there.”

“You were raped?” Megan stared at him, her eyes sympathetic and warm.

“You weren’t really supposed to pick that out from that speech,” James muttered.

“Well, it’s the one thing that has definitely not been reported about you.”

“Good.”

“Well, you’re not a monster, James. You save lives every single day. You’re a hero.”

“No, I’m walking on a… scale, with, like, 500 assassinations on one side and I’m trying to balance it out with a handful of lives I may or may not have saved.”

“It wasn’t you,” Megan sighed. “None of those people were killed by _you_.”

“They were killed by this body.”

“I mean, you do have a rather killer body,” Megan quipped.

That earned her a smile from James, and he felt his face heat up slightly. “Not what I meant.”

“It doesn’t matter what you meant, James. All those people died, and yet you, just as much a victim as any of them, lived. So what are you doing with that life? You’re using it to help others. You’re letting good come out of that situation. And that’s all you can do, James.”

James swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the sudden lump in his throat as he stopped at a stop sign. They were now in the quiet neighborhood surrounding Megan’s house, so James didn’t bother moving from the stop sign for a moment, instead taking a shaky breath and letting a couple tears fall. Megan put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey. You’re okay. I get it.”

James took a shuddering breath and continued driving, pulling into her street and stopping in front of her house. He wiped at his eyes and cleared his throat. “Okay, can you find the cats without entering the house?”

“Well, I’d better. I just remembered that the police took my key.”

“Well, good thing I’ve got you at the tower. Again, if you’ve got a friend you’d rather stay with…”

“The only friend I’ve still got is married with a baby. Life changed in the five years we were gone. My friends moved on without me.”

“Oh.” James blinked. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“They had to.” She shrugged. “But yeah, it’s been hard. It’s part of the reason why I moved here.”

James got out of the car and opened the trunk. Megan got out too, watching as he rifled through his emergency kit, eventually pulling out a can of tuna. “This might help.” He tossed it to her as he suddenly felt something bump into his leg, causing him to jump back reflexively, as Megan burst out laughing. He looked down to see a fluffy blue-pointed cat rubbing against his leg, purring. “You scared me, you little fluff ball.” He knelt down to pet the cat. “This guy is huge.”

“Yeah, Siberian’s are big cats. That’s Bluebell—she’s actually smaller than the male, Juniper.”

“Wow.” James gentle picked up the cat, who purred in his arms. “You’ve gotta be at least fifteen pounds.”

“Juniper’s twenty.” Megan walked toward the house, looking around and calling her cat’s name. “I’m going to have to bathe them when we get back.” She glanced back at James. “Any chance you’d brave cat scratches and help me?”

“You know, metal arms are useful for that,” James chuckled, still cradling the cat in his arms. “Much easier to avoid scratches when you can direct them to an arm that can’t get scratched.”

“You’re going to get that shiny metal all scuffed up,” Megan said distractedly, peering under the porch.

“Unless your cats have vibranium claws, that’s not going to happen.”

“I’ve never seen vibranium. What does it look like?”

James stared at her. “Uh, Meg, of course you’ve seen vibranium.”

“There he is!” She called out suddenly, and James noticed a large lynx-point cat trot up to her. She scooped him up quickly, the cat a large, awkward weight in her arms. James raised an eyebrow as she turned to him.

“Want to switch cats?”

Megan laughed. “No, I’m fine. Come on, let’s get them in the car and get to your place before this snow accumulates too much.” She walked to the car, then paused and grinned at him. “I’ve got to take a picture of this.”

“Of what?”

“You with a giant cat in your arms and snowflakes in your hair.” She placed the cat gently in the car before whipping her phone out and snapping a photo, as James protested.

Eventually they were all in the car, driving toward the tower once more. Megan had Bluebell in her lap, and was gently stroking and talking to the cat.

James’ phone rang, and he pressed to answer it through his car’s Bluetooth. “Hello?”

“Hello there, Sergeant Barnes!” A cheerful, accented voice greeted him.

“Shuri, hey! Have you arrived?”

“Yes, and I’m looking for you! I wanted to say hi, but Sam said you were at the police station. You spend too much time there, white boy.”

James snorted. “Gotta do something. I’ll be there soon, alright? You can meet me at the back entrance, if you’d like. I’ve got my intern from work with me; her house was broken into and she needed a place to stay.”

“Ooh, well, I’m looking forward to meeting her. How’s your arm?”

“Honestly, my shoulder’s been acting up again, so I was hoping you’d be able to have a look while you’re here. And one of the plates looks a little skew; I’m not sure how that happened.”

“Only you would manage to break vibranium,” Shuri grumbled. “I’m looking into making it lighter so that it won’t hurt your shoulder as much, but I think the real issue is how it’s attached. I don’t really want to do a whole surgery unless we have to, though.”

“Yeah, please avoid that,” James agreed. He noticed Megan staring at him, and raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Shuri replied.

“No, talking to Megan. She’s staring at me like I’m from another planet.”

“I’m guessing that’s your intern? Hey Megan! Are you guys driving? Can you both hear me?”

“Yep,” James responded.

“Uh, yeah,” Megan said.

“Hey, we’re pulling up now. Come meet us.”

James put the phone down as he swung into the parking lot. “You’re okay with this, right?”

“I’m fascinated,” Megan chuckled. “For one thing, I had no idea your arm was vibranium, and for another, it’s interesting how you act around her. A lot lighter and more carefree.”

“She’s become like a little sister to me,” James shrugged. “Which is funny actually, because she acts as my doctor a lot of the time.”

“Have you told her about what you’ve been through?”

“Not in great detail, no. She knows what the general public knows. I’m not telling a little sister figure about some of the stuff that happened with Hydra.” His tone darkened near the end of the sentence, and Megan nodded slowly as she got out of the car, trying to get on James’ left side to walk to the building and finding that he kept blocking her.

“Come on, what’s your issue with me being on the other side of you?”

“What?”

“You keep blocking me from getting on your metal arm side. I want to see it.”

James half opened his mouth, but was saved from responding by Shuri, who suddenly opened the door and waved them into the building. “Hi James!” She cried, throwing her arms around him. “It’s good to see you again. It’s so cold out there, ugh. Come inside!”

“Wait,” Megan said quickly. “I left my cats in the car because I wanted to be sure we’d know where to put them. Can I go get them?”

“Ooh, you like cats? Yeah, let me help you. I’m Shuri, by the way. Sorry we didn’t get a proper introduction yet.” She held out her hand for a handshake as she looked at Megan with interest. “I like your hair. I always thought James was more of a long hair sort of guy, but—“

“We’re not anything, Shuri,” James groaned.

Shuri raised one eyebrow. “Mmhmm. Come on, let’s grab your cats.”

They got the cats inside after a while, and eventually were sitting around a table in a lab, the cats roaming around their feet. “So tell me,” Shuri began, looking at James. “Does your shoulder hurt more in cold weather? I’m curious.”

“Not really,” James shrugged. “When I’m out in the cold, it all goes sort of numb because of the chill in the metal.”

“Is that uncomfortable?”

James shrugged. “It just feels like I’ve got an ice pack on my shoulder. Not a big deal.”

“Okay, so when particularly does your shoulder hurt?”

“Most of the time, I guess?” He shrugged again. “It’s a low level of pain though, and it gets worse if I use the arm a lot. I think it’s just the weight.”

“Maybe. Can I have a look?”

James looked hesitantly at Megan, indecision on his face before he finally looked back at Shuri and nodded. “I guess. Where do you need me?”

“Have a seat on the examination table.” She nodded to it, and James stood up, pulling off his jacket, which was followed by his shirt after a moment of hesitation. He could feel Megan’s eyes on him, looking over his abs and then finally resting on the thick ropes of scar tissue around his arm. He swallowed hard and jumped onto the table, feeling a bit nervous. His hand moved subconsciously to his shoulder, hiding the scars from view.

“Thanks,” Shuri snorted. “Just cover what I want to see.”

“Sorry,” James murmured, lowering his hand. Shuri smiled reassuringly and prodded gently at the flesh around the metal arm. “Ow,” James hissed.

“That hurts?” She touched the spot again, and James winced.

“Yeah.”

“Hm.” She continued feeling around, locating a couple more pressure points. “I really need a scan for this. I can sedate you—“

“No, I’m sorry,” James said firmly. “I’m not getting an MRI.”

“It’s not quite an MRI; it’s just around the shoulders—“

“Shuri, _no._ I can’ t. Just take an x-ray, can’t you?”

“The stupid metal hides what I’m looking to see. It’s all tangled up in your bones there and I can’t see what I’m looking at with all these dense white patches.”

“Then just jump in with a scalpel,” James said suddenly. “You’ll probably end to having to cut anyhow, and—“

“You’d rather me do an unnecessary exploratory surgery than lay on a table for five minutes and let a machine scan you?” Shuri stared at him, not making any effort to hide her incredulousness.

James looked away and swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“I had an MRI once,” Megan suddenly said. “It was admittedly pretty scary. But I mean, it doesn’t touch you or anything. It’s not at all dangerous and it doesn’t hurt, unlike a surgery.”

“Why did you need one?” James asked.

“I’m in remission from breast cancer. They wanted to check that it was actually all gone. That’s why my hair’s so short, you know. It’s been, like… three months. I can’t wait until it’s a year. I’ll feel a bit safer.”

“I had no idea,” James murmured, amazed. “How long did you have it?”

“About six months. Right after I graduated from the Academy. Didn’t you wonder why I haven’t had a job for nine months?”

“I figured you couldn’t find one. What with the blip and all, I haven’t really looked at that too much. And I thought you just liked your hair short. It’s a cute style.”

“Figured I’d go with something fun to celebrate actually having hair. You like it?”

“I do.”

“Hm. Might consider keeping it, then. Long hair is annoying anyway with my curls. Side note, you’re not very good at paying attention when you’re hiring someone.”

“I prefer first impressions than paperwork.” He looked at Shuri, suddenly noticing that she was prepping something in a syringe. “What are you doing?”

“Making you a sedative.”

James groaned. “Look, Shuri, it’s not that important. My old arm hurt a lot more, and I’m used to living with pain. It’s really not a problem.”

“It is,” Shuri disagreed stubbornly. “You’ve got some weird bruising there that I’m worried about. I don’t want something to be going on with the bone or whatever. We’ve still been using the original Hydra attachments, and I know that they had to keep removing extra pieces of your arm, probably because they kept messing up. I don’t want to have to be replacing your entire shoulder any time soon.”

James huffed out a sigh. “The machine will never touch me?”

“No, it won’t.”

“Okay. Fine. I’ll do it.” His voice shook slightly, and he grit his teeth, trying to force himself to relax. It wasn’t Hydra. They weren’t going to hurt him.

“Brief warning that I’m about to stab you with a needle,” Shuri said, wiping James’ arm with disinfectant before immediately sticking the syringe into his vein. He flinched a little, more at the memory of getting experimented on with Hydra than the pain of the needle.

“There you go. Breathe with it, it should calm you a bit.”

“Uh huh.” James got off the table. “Where am I going?”

“Follow me, you two.” They set off down the hallway, entering another room, which looked much the same except for a contraption fairly similar in appearance to an MRI machine. James stopped when he saw it, swallowing hard. “You good?” Shuri asked.

“I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

“There’s a trash can over there,” Shuri snorted unsympathetically.

Megan walked up next to James and hugged his flesh arm comfortingly. “It’s okay. You’ll be fine.”

“I know.” James shrugged out of her grasp, suddenly embarrassed at how nervous he was acting. “Right.” He lay down on the bed, trying not to look as nervous as he was feeling. He wiped his sweaty palm on his jeans and tried to take a deep breath. “What is that stuff you gave me supposed to do?”

“Just hopefully stop you from attacking me,” Shuri quipped, walking toward James and clicking a few buttons. “Okay, I need you to stay as still as you can. The less you move, the less time we have to spend on this.”

James nodded, trying not to panic at the familiar sound or moving machinery surrounding him. He struggled to breath steadily, and noticed that someone had gently placed their hand on his. He eyes squeezed shut.

“Okay, that’s all,” Shuri’s cheerful voice said, moving the machinery away. “You can get up now.”  
James sat up quickly, breathing heavily as the relief washed over him. “Please tell me you’ll never have to do that again.”

“Hey, it wasn’t so bad, was it?” Shuri reasoned, looking at the results on the laptop they’d been sent to.

“Brings back bad memories,” he murmured, rubbing at his forehead with his flesh hand. “I don’t know if it was those drugs, but I feel a bit spacey.”

“Yeah, well, they were pretty strong. You might want to go lay down a bit in case you pass out or something.”

“What? Shuri,” James groaned. “What did you give me?”

“Just a sedative. Your metabolism’s too fast for the regular strength stuff, though. Just go lay down, and I can examine your results in the meantime. You can get the cats settled in your room, too, while I get to work in peace and quiet.” She winked at them.

“Okay then,” Megan said with a raised eyebrow. “We shall leave you in peace. Come on, коты.”

“You call them the Russian word for cats?” James asked, following her out of the lab with an amused expression.

“They’re Russian. So.”

“Uh huh. Эй, коты, ты понимаешь это?” He laughed when Juniper, who was trotting along next to him, trilled after he spoke to him.

“What did you just say?”

“I asked if the cats understood me.”

“So you’re fluent in Russian?”

Janes shrugged. “The… the Soldier knew it. I’m not sure how. But somehow the language never left me.”

“Interesting.” She glanced back at the lab and lowered her voice. “Okay, so does Shuri think we’re sharing a room or something? She’s referring to us leaving together and the cats as staying with _us_ in your room.”

“Everyone is _dying_ to see me with a woman, apparently,” James said irritably. “I didn’t expect it with Shuri, but here we are.”

“Well, you did just admit to me you like me, so they’re not wrong.”

“Don’t make me regret that,” James sighed. “So. You had cancer.”

“Yeah. I have to go in like every month for blood tests and stuff to make sure it hadn’t returned.”

“Does the chance go down as time passes?”

Megan scooped Bluebell off the floor. “I mean… after five years of remission, it’s less likely it’ll come back, if you like those odds.”

“Can’t say I do,” James frowned.

“Me neither,” Megan sighed. “But hey, it’s over for now. I’ve learned to focus on the moment.”

“I get that. So you had chemo and all that?”

“Mm. It was awful. I considered a mastectomy, still am, actually, but that’s just…” she hesitated. “I don’t know. I can’t really bring myself to do it, and even if I did, it’s not much of a guarantee of anything, since I’ve already had cancer once.”

“Right.” James was silent for a moment, and Megan suddenly felt something cold and hard grab her shoulder, and realized that James had just grabbed onto her to steady himself.

“Woah, are you okay?” She stopped walking and turned to look at him as he hurriedly pulled his hand off of her shoulder.

“Yeah. Sorry, this sedative is making me a bit woozy. I don’t think Shuri really expected me to react much to it.”

“She did tell you to lay down.”

“I think she was more trying to get us out of the room,” James chuckled. “Okay, come on, we’re almost at my room. I’m fine.”

“Feel free to hold onto me if you need to,” Megan told him, walking directly next to the taller man. “Hey,” Megan began, “What time is it?”

James shook his head to clear it. “Sorry, what? The time?” He pulled his sleeve up and looked at his watch, his face scrunching up as he stared at it. “Okay, I think I’m about to have a seizure.”

“Wait, what? Should I run and get Shuri?”

James walked to the wall and sank down so that he was leaning against it. “No,” he said as he pulled himself into a loose fetal position, resting his forehead on his knees. Megan knelt next to him, watching his rather rapid breathing as his body tensed up, relaxing after a moment. His face went pale and he felt slightly nauseous, swallowing several times without realizing he was doing so. He stared at a single point, looking completely out of it as he scratched oddly at his leg.

They remained like that for a minute or two, until James took a deep breath and straightened his legs, his scratching and swallowing over. “Okay, it’s over.”

“Are you okay? I thought seizures were, like—on the floor, convulsing?”

“Depends on the type. I could tell when I couldn’t read my watch, and was feeling a bit disorientated.” James stood up unsteadily. “Shoot. I really need to lay down. I’m feeling a bit dizzy.”

“Here, hold onto my arm, and we’ll get to your room.” She held it out to him, and he hesitantly wrapped his flesh arm around it. He was quiet as they walked the rest of the way to his room, and he flopped onto the bed as soon as they got there. Megan called her cats into the room, and heard a hiss from the other side of the room.

“Uh, James?”

“Mm?”

“I don’t think Alpine appreciates my cats being here.”

“Oh, right.” James propped himself up on his elbows. “Let Alpine out of the room. Everyone’s used to him roaming the tower.”

Megan nodded and did as she was told before finally laying on the bed next to James. “Do you mind if I lay with you for a moment? I’m exhausted.”

“Not at all.” James looked at his watch again. “It’s almost 5:00, if you were still wondering about the time. Sorry, I’m feeling more normal laying here than I was out there.”

“It’s only 5:00? Why am I so tired?”

“I imagine it’s been a stressful day for you, and you probably didn’t sleep well last night.”

“I didn’t,” Megan agreed. She shifted closer to James’ left side and gently lifted his metal arm above her, so that she could look at it.

“You know, I’d punch most people if they tried that,” James said sleepily, his eyes closed.

“Hey, I’m just looking.” She took his hand and moved the fingers curiously, inspecting the way the metal plates moved against one another, before lifting the arm again. “This thing is heavy.”

“It is metal,” James pointed out, still not opening his eyes.

“Can you get it wet?”

James snorted. “No, I have to wrap cling-film around my arm every time I shower. Of course it can get wet.”

“Isn’t it hard to clean dirt out of all the grooves and stuff?”

“I once spent a week obsessively cleaning blood off of it. It was nearly impossible, which just made me more and more frantic to wash it.”

“Oh. Uh. Okay. Why did you… never mind.”

“Yeah, don’t ask.”

Megan laid his metal arm on her chest and hummed as she ran her fingers along the grooves.

“You know I can feel that,” James chuckled suddenly.

“What? How?”

“I’m not sure. Not the metal parts, but the closer you get to the center, I can feel it a little. And I can feel pressure and whatever.”

“Can you feel my heartbeat?” She laid his palm flat on her chest, just above and to the right of her left breast.

“Yeah,” James grinned, shifting to make the angle of his arm more comfortable. Megan sighed contendedly and closed her eyes, and James followed suit, realizing just before he drifted off that for some reason he wasn’t afraid of sleeping this time.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff, and then finally some main plot building ;)

James opened his eyes to a dark room, and the sight of Megan curled up next to him, fast asleep and hugging his metal arm. He smiled to himself, watching the peaceful rise and fall of her chest, before looking at his watch. It was 4am.

Gently extricating his arm, careful not to wake Megan up, James tiptoed to the bathroom, where he washed, shaved, and took a quick shower. He threw on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt before sneaking out of the room.

As he had guessed, the light in the lab was still on, and he tapped on the doorframe as he entered. “Still up, Shuri?”

“Hey, sleepyhead. I thought you’d be back here before now.” Shuri looked up at him with bright, wide-awake eyes. “I’m still jet-lagged. Can’t sleep.”

“Figured you would be. By the way, those sedatives gave me a seizure. Might want to make a note of that. Speaking of which… I haven’t taken my meds yet.”

“Really? Didn’t expect that. Here, I’ve got your meds here. You’re a bit late with that, though.”

“I know.” He accepted a couple pills from Shuri, and tossed them back with a glass of water she handed him. “Thanks. It smells like food in here; you got any leftovers? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, Clint ordered a whole ton of tacos and dropped the leftovers down here for you two and me. There’s a lot left over.”

“Awesome.” James walked over to the table and unwrapped one of the tacos in the box, taking a large bite. “Any results from the scan?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full. Yeah, it’s the attachments, as I thought. You’ve just kind of got some screws thrown in there, and your muscle is kind of… rubbing against the metal, which is causing irritation. I’m looking at a way we can get vibranium to integrate almost naturally onto your bones, so that it’s all smooth and basically one piece. I’ve made up a model of your shoulder on my screen, and I’m in the process of modeling a new attachment piece.”

“That sounds like a big surgery.”

“It would be, but unfortunately I don’t see any way around it.”

“Hm.” James unwrapped another taco and started eating it. He swallowed his bite before speaking. “So how’s Wakanda?”

“We’re doing well,” Shuri smiled. “The village children all miss you.”

James smiled. “Tell them I said hello.”

“I will. You should go visit them sometime. They really looked up to you. You were like a father-figure.”

James chuckled and shook his head. “I doubt that.”

“No, you were! You’d make a great father someday, James.”

“Would I?” He frowned. “I always pictured myself having kids one day. But I just don’t know.”

“You’d be a great dad, seriously. Your past just makes you better know how to relate to people. You’d be awesome, trust me.”

“Thanks.” James smiled ruefully. “Too bad it’s not going to happen.”

“Why not? You’ve got a girlfriend now. It might still happen.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, Shuri.”

Shuri looked over from her monitor to raise an eyebrow at James. “Did you two not just go to bed together?”

James blushed bright red. “No, wait, no. We were tired and lay down for a minute, and then we both just fell asleep, next to each other. On top of the covers and everything. Nothing else happened, I swear. Nothing has ever happened between us.”

“Well, I think she suits you,” Shuri shrugged, looking back at the monitor.

“Oh, shut up.” James sighed, choking on a bite of his taco as he noticed Megan standing in the doorway, her hair wet and wearing a red and black striped sweater with a pair of dark blue jeans. “Hey,” he said finally. “Have a taco.”

“Ooh, good, food.” Megan hurried over to the table and sat down across from James, who handed her one of the tacos. She tore off the paper wrapper and took a bite before speaking. “So you like kids?”

Bucky groaned. “How much of that conversation did you hear?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Megan winked at Shuri, who laughed and continued investigating her monitor.

“What are you doing?” Megan asked, standing up and wandering over to Shuri. “Ooh. That looks interesting.”

“Yeah, it’s a 3D model of his shoulder,” Shuri explained. “I’m trying to figure out how to smoothly integrate the metal.”

Megan hummed as she looked at it. “Wouldn’t it be better just to replace the whole shoulder at this point, á la hip replacement? It’s kind of a mess anyway.”

“I’m considering that,” Shuri admitted. “But it would be a large surgery with a lot of rehab time.”

“Yeah, that sounds terrifying,” Bucky spoke up. “Seriously, Shuri, it’s not that bad. I can deal with it.”

“I’m fixing your arm whether you like it or not,” Shuri said stubbornly, before walking to the table and sitting down next to Bucky. “Can you take off your shirt? I want to look at something.”

“It’s cold in here,” Bucky groaned. “I swear you just like seeing me shirtless.”

Megan laughed, sitting down across from them and pulling out her phone. She groaned as she turned it on and looked at her messages. “Mom’s having a fit about a blizzard up here. She doesn’t even know I’m here. Is it actually blizzarding outside?”

Bucky paused with his shirt lifted halfway up his chest. “Is it? I can check.”

“No, let me stay here and look at your arm,” Shuri snapped, and Bucky sighed, relenting, before looking back at Megan.

“Doesn’t your mom know that your house got broken into, then?”

“Nope. And she doesn’t need to.” She continued browsing on her phone. “Yeah, according to this, there’s about two feet of snow expected to fall on us. Hardly a blizzard, but that’s a fair amount.”

“Driving to work tomorrow is going to be fun,” James sighed.

“Guess that answers my question as to whether or not we get snow days,” Megan quipped. “Is there really any crime happening after a big snowfall?”

“Crime never ends.” James replied, rather wearily. “It’s usually pretty tame though; just shoplifters, mostly. They decide that when the stores are all closed is a good time to break in and clear the shelves. We also look out for any homeless people who we direct to the shelters.”

“Shoulda grabbed my Jeep. It drives pretty well in these conditions.”

“Mm, that would help with getting to work, but we kind of have to drive the cruiser.” He tapped his metal fingers on the table, causing Shuri to scowl at him.

“Be still, I’m trying to look at something here.”

“Can you run and have a look at what it does look like outside?” James asked Megan. “I’m wondering if we’d be needed overtime to help out.”

“You can call the department,” Megan suggested, getting up from the table. She disappeared for a moment and came back shortly after. “It’s at about a foot right now, coming down hard.”

“They’ll probably need us to shuttle public health workers to the hospitals and whatnot. We could swing by your place and grab the Jeep, then you can follow me to the station. I can see if they would mind us using the Jeep to shuttle people. We could throw some lights on there if we need to. That’s if you wouldn’t mind, of course.”

“Not at all. You mean, like, go there right now? Shouldn’t we call and check in?”

“I tend to just pitch up. But that’s just me.”

“You probably don’t care about earning money, though,” Megan pointed out. “I have a house and some medical bills to pay off, not to mention what I spent to go to the Academy.”

James blinked. “Didn’t you have insurance?”

“I did, but with a very high deductible.” Megan shrugged. “On the plus side, any medical expenses are covered for the rest of this year.”

“Yeesh, if I had to pay for my medical expenses, I’d be done for,” James muttered. Shuri lifted James’ arm over his head and he frowned, looking at her. “What are you doing?”

“Your arm moves kind of weird compared to your other one. There’s a slight difference in your shoulder’s muscle structure on this side vs your other side, and I’m curious about whether that’s a problem.”

“Hm.” James tugged his arm back and threw his long-sleeved black shirt back on as Shuri stepped back to her monitor. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and clicked on a contact before holding it to his ear. “Hey, this is Sergeant Barnes, from Jefferson District—I wanted to call and check whether I might be needed to help ferry people to work this morning.” He glanced at Megan before continuing. “I know that Officer Hayes has a Jeep, so I… called her, and she’s down with using the Jeep in the snow. It’ll work a lot better than the cruiser.” Megan raised an eyebrow at him from across the table, which he ignored. “Yes, I called her at 4am. It’s an important job. Gotta keep my officers on their toes.” He cracked a small grin at the response on the other end. “6:00? Okay, thank you so much.” He said a few more words before putting the phone down. “Now I sound like quite the dictator over my officers,” he groaned.

“Your mistake for mentioning me,” Megan snorted. “Could you get in trouble for having me here?”

“I’m not really sure. They’re grateful to have me, so I’m unsure if they’d really get upset.” He hesitated. “Unless of course they felt that I was using my position to, er, take advantage of you,” he added in a rush. “Which I wouldn’t do. But easier not to mention it.”

“Yeah, definitely easier,” Megan chuckled. “So they want us in at 6:00?”

“Yep. I’ll drive you to your car in the cruiser, and then you can follow me to the station. We’ll leave from there to pick up and take people to work.”

Megan yawned. “No rest for the wicked.”

James laughed. “Hey, you just slept for, what? Ten hours? There’s still time for coffee.”

***

Megan quite enjoyed ferrying people to work, she decided after the third doctor person had been delivered safely to the hospital. “What now?” Megan asked, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. She had argued with James long and hard about driving, eventually pulling out the ‘its my car’ card and defeating his arguments. James had placed some police lights on the Jeep to indicate that it was a police car, and Megan was pretty proud of it.

“Let’s just find somewhere to hunker down and wait for calls to come in. Not here, but somewhere somewhat busy so that we can check for any car accidents.”

“How about the intersection of First and General Street?”

“Good choice.”

Megan smirked at the compliment and started driving slowly out of the parking lot. The snow was still falling in thick, wet clumps, and although the Jeep was handling it very well, she could still easily feel the decreased traction of the road. “How do the cruisers ever even try to drive in these conditions?”

“It’s not very safe,” James agreed. “We’ve got a few SUVs that I usually let the other officers take. I’m usually left with the cruiser.”

“Why?”

James shrugged. “I’m the one with advanced healing, strength, and a metal arm. I’ve already got unfair advantages here; it’s not fair if I take more just because I can.”

“How exactly does advanced healing work?” Megan asked, glancing over at him.

“Eyes on the road, Hayes. I’m not entirely sure what you mean?”

“Like—how long does it take to heal from a paper cut? How does all that work? Does the pain go away quicker?”

“I guess? It’s been a long time since I’ve been normal, remember. It’s… another life, when I think back to it.” He shook his head. “So I’d rather not look back on what I will never have again.”

Megan hummed. “Interesting.” They drove for a while in silence, until James suddenly spoke sharply.

“Wait, Hayes, pull over.”

“What? Why?”

James got out the car as she stopped it, pointing to a car parked a bit skew, with a large snowdrift around it.

“I’m sure they’re just parked like everybody else.”

“There are tire tracks, silly. And that’s not part of the road—they’re mostly in the ditch here. I think they’ve accidentally crashed into a snowdrift and gotten stuck, which means we should help them.”

He neared the car and tapped on the windows, peering inside when no one answered. “They must have walked somewhere to get help.”

“So what should we do?” Megan shivered in the cold air. “Wait here? That’s protocol, isn’t it?”

“Unless there’s reason to believe they’re in danger, yes.” He looked up and down the street, unsure.

“You think they are?”

“I’m trying to decide if walking in these conditions would be considered dangerous.”

“Maybe their house isn’t too far away, so they just went there and they’ll come back for the car tomorrow or something.”

James nodded, pressing his flesh hand to the window and peering into the car. “You’re probably right. I’m going to go look around for a second; you wait here in case they come back.”

He was gone for about twenty minutes, during which Megan retreated back into her car to warm up, wondering how James wasn’t absolutely ice-cold yet. She put in her AirPods and listened to some music to pass the time. Eventually she spotted him walking back, dusting the snow off the rear license plate of the car and noting down the numbers and letters in his notebook. He climbed back into the car with a shiver, kicking the snow off of his boots. “It’s cold out there.”

“No kidding.” She looked at the sleeveless parka he wore, then at the snowflakes stuck in his dark hair. “Did you find anything?”

“Nope.” James rubbed at his temples. “Something seems suspicious. I should’ve gotten the license of the car, actually.”

Megan frowned. “You did.”

James snapped his head over to look at her. “I did?”

“Yeah, you stopped and knelt down and wrote it on a paper that you put in your pocket.”

“Oh.” James reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “So I did.” He placed it in the cupholder of the car, and inhaled deeply.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” James replied, unconvincingly. “Actually, could you drop me off at the station? You can head home for the day; I think I’m getting a migraine.”

“Okay,” Megan said slowly. “You sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah. As I said, migraine.”

“Do you usually get confused before a migraine?”

“Yes, of course, it’s a common symptom.”

“Okay, sorry.” Megan turned the car onto the street and began driving back to the station.

“Sorry,” James said after a moment. “Can you go home yet?”

“Yes, the police officer said I can stop by anytime today to grab my keys. They’ll be finished investigating.” She glanced sideways at James. “I’m surprised you remembered.”

“It’s the short-term stuff,” he said vaguely, and she continued driving. A niggling part of her wondered at the fact that he had taken so long at the abandoned car, and had come back so confused. Maybe the snow triggered him a lot more than he had admitted earlier.

She couldn’t help but wonder why she cared so much.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megan and James attend a murder scene... things get interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a slightly graphic, maybe? Description of a quadruple murder scene.

Megan sighed as she walked into the police office, taking a deep sip of her coffee as she made her way toward James’ office. Her eyes felt dry, and all she wanted to do was sleep… but work had to go on, she supposed.

She stopped outside of James’ door, noting that the door was closed and there was no light shining beneath the door. She stood, unsure, and feeling like an idiot as she lightly tapped on the door. “Uh, Sergeant? You in there?”

“Yeah, come in,” James’ voice, sounding possibly even more exhausted than hers, responded. She opened the door cautiously to see him sitting in total darkness at his desk, his head in his hands. “Don’t even think about switching on the light, or I’ll slit your throat with a rusty knife. Slowly.”

“That’s quite a threat,” Megan mused, closing the door and turning on her phone for some light as she navigated to the couch in James’ office and sat down. “You alright?”

“Mm. Just this stupid migraine.” His voice was monotonous, and he hadn’t looked up once since she had entered.

“Why are you even at work then?”

“I never left,” James chuckled humorlessly.

“You slept here?”

“Yep.”

“Why?” Megan stared at the back of his head. “You should have called me or something; I could have taken you home.”

James shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve got a couch.” He exhaled deeply and finally spun his chair around to face her, grimacing as he opened his eyes. “You look exhausted too.”

“I am. Didn’t sleep very well… I kept thinking I was hearing things outside. Pretty stupid.”

“Not really. I could’ve sworn someone was outside last night, but I went out and checked and there was no one.”

“You went outside, where there might be an intruder, in this area, in that state?”

James huffed out what might have been a laugh in different circumstances. “Somehow I was feeling a little better at that point, I think.”

“You think?”

“My memory is freaking out,” James muttered, leaning back in his swivel chair and closing his eyes again. “Lay down. Have a nap. I honestly don’t care what you do today.”

“Can I make you some coffee?”

“Please. And grab me, like, four aspirin, would you?”

“That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

“My metabolism is too fast for regular doses. Bottle’s in the cupboard with the coffee, in the back. Don’t ask.”

Megan raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment as she left the room, heading to the kitchen and making a strong cup of coffee. She grabbed the aspirin before heading back to the office.

James took the mug of black coffee gratefully, and dry-swallowed the pills before taking a sip of the coffee. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Megan lay down on the couch, watching James as he slumped back in his chair, his eyes closed. Finally she closed hers too, grateful for the permission to sleep at work.

***

Megan awoke to the sound of James talking on the phone, and sat up slowly, rubbing at her eyes. James glanced in her direction, still speaking into the telephone.

“Where is this? Really? Yeah, I’ll be right there.” He stood up, only wincing a little as he turned on the light. “Hayes, good timing. A jogger just stumbled upon a murder scene. You won’t believe where it is.”

“You feeling better?” Megan asked, getting up with a yawn and following him out the room.

“A little. Thanks.”

“So what’s this? A murder?” She felt herself waking up more, her curiosity piqued.

“Yeah. At the intersection of First and General.”

Megan’s eyes widened. “That’s where we found the car yesterday.”

“I know. Coincidence? I think not.” James stepped outside, walking with long strides toward the cruiser.

“There’s, like, two feet of snow out here; is it safe to drive the cruiser in this?”

“We’re attending a murder scene, so all protocol must be followed. And the streets are mostly all plowed, so it shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Should you be driving?”

James hesitated before finally tossing Megan the keys, which she caught triumphantly. “Finally! I get to drive this thing!”

“Have to start sometime, I guess,” James sighed, walking around the car to slide into the passenger’s seat. “Be careful with it.”

“You _really_ shouldn’t be at work today,” Megan commented as she turned on the ignition.

“I’m aware of that,” James agreed. “But I’m not missing out on a murder scene, especially since they’ll want us there when they hear we were there yesterday.”

“For sure.” Megan pulled out of the parking lot. “This thing drives really smoothly.”

“Good suspension,” James commented, squinting at the road ahead. Megan glanced over at him, a little concerned that the bright sunlight glinting off the white snow might be getting to him.

“How’s your head?”

“Not as bad as this morning,” he shrugged, leaning against the back of his seat.

Megan nodded and parked on the shoulder, exactly where she had the day before, and the two policemen hopped out of the car, walking to where three other police cars were already. Their lights were flashing, lighting up the snow with chaotic flashes of blue and red.

James motioned for Megan to follow him through the snow, along a path forged by the boots of the other policemen. James stepped to the group of five policemen, who were busy setting up stakes and yellow police tape around a certain patch of snow.

For the first time, Megan began to feel nervous as she stepped forward, peering at the snow inside of the taped line.

Four bodies lay there, splayed out as if they had simply tripped while walking or running. It might have looked that innocent if not for the bright red snow surrounding each of their heads, the fragments of brain tissue laying on the snow in front of them. Megan’s hand clapped to her mouth as she took in the fact that these weren’t just random victims—this was a _family_. There was the father, the mother, and two teenage children—a boy and a girl—laying face down in the snow, which had melted around them so that they were almost buried in natural, watery graves. Megan turned and ran back toward the street, stumbling against the wall of a nearby building and vomiting into the snow.

A gentle yet firm hand rested on her shoulder, somehow supporting her and comforting her all at once. “Sorry,” she choked out.

“Don’t apologize,” James’ warm voice replied. “It’s a natural reaction. I should have warned you as to the nature of this murder.”

“These murders,” Megab corrected him. “Shot in the head. Just like my father.” She let out a sound that was half sob, half laugh. “And I thought a shot to the head would be a clean way of killing someone.”

“Been meaning to disabuse you of that notion,” James said, his voice sounding rather uncomfortable. “For the record, I didn’t realize these were bullet to the head killings, or I wouldn’t have taken you here.”

“We have to be here,” Megan reminded him, straightening up, her breath still coming too quickly. “We were here yesterday. You really didn’t see anything then?”

James scratched at his hairline and didn’t reply. “Come on, we need to get back to the scene. You can wait in the car if you want.”

Megan took a deep breath. “No. I’m a policeman; I have to get used to this sort of thing.”

James squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, and walked back to the crime scene. Megan followed him closely.

“There’s a car over there that we noticed yesterday,” James told a newcomer, who was dressed in simple jeans and a puffer jacket. “Officer Hayes here was with me.”

“Hello,” the man said, turning to Megan. “I’m Detective Onslo.”

“Nice to meet you,” Megan replied, taking his hand and shaking it.

“So you two were both here yesterday? About what time was that?”

“We got here round about 10:30,” Megan replied smoothly. “We left at 11:00.”

“Why did it take so long?”

“We investigated the car a bit,” James supplied, “then we debated whether or not to go looking for the owners. Hayes thought that maybe they were close to home and had just walked there. It might still be true; there’s no proof that this car has anything to do with the murders.”

“Ja—Sergeant Barnes also spent some time looking around the area while I waited back in the car,” Megan added. “That took about twenty minutes.”

“Quite a while,” Onslo replied, raising an eyebrow at James. “Did you find something? Could you tell me your exact movements during that time?”

Megan looked expectantly over at James, and was surprised to see him scratching ice off of his metal arm, his eyebrows furrowed. He was clearly very uncomfortable, and… was that fear in his eyes? “Um, I… walked around the car a bit. Checked behind that building”—he pointed to a nearby building—“just, looking for footprints and stuff.”

“For twenty minutes?”

James hesitated before nodding. “Yeah.”

“Did you come over this way at all?”

“I… I’m not really sure. Maybe. I wasn’t exactly mapping it out in my brain.”

“He was getting a migraine by the time he got back,” Megan supplied. Maybe if the detective understood that, he’d be a little more lenient on the questions. “I saw him note down the license, but had to remind him where he’d written it. So he probably didn’t—” She stopped, feeling James stamp on her foot. She looked up at him, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the increased fear on his face.

“Did you check out who owned the vehicle?” The detective asked, watching James carefully.

“No,” James admitted, looking down. “I, uh, left the note in her car. And I was out of action for most of the rest of the day with a migraine.”

“I see.” The detective gave James another scrutinizing look. “Could I see your ID?”

James took a step back, looking panicked. “Look, I didn’t do this.” Megan’s eyes widened, and she stared at James in shock. Did he really think...

“I’m not saying you did,” the detective told him, his voice calm and seemingly unsurprised at James’ reaction. “I just want to get your ID.” James took a deep breath and dug into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and handing the man his driver’s license.

Another man in plain clothes walked up to Detective Onslo, showing him something in a ziplock bag. “We’ve found a necklace on the scene. It seemed to have been grabbed by the oldest male victim before he was shot.”

Detective Oslo took the bag and looked at it, his eyes narrowing. He showed the bag to James. “Do you recognize this?”

James instantly went even paler than he already was, and Megan leaned over to see what they were looking at. It was a dog tag, old and tarnished.

And it had James’ name printed on it. “I didn’t have that, that’s been missing for years,” James choked out, unable to tear his eyes off of the object.

Detective Onslo’s face set grimly. “I’m going to have to ask for your passport.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for discussion of suicidal thoughts.
> 
> Going to be honest here—I thought I had already posted this chapter. So if I responded oddly to any comments last week... that’s why. Lol.

James headed back to his office, rubbing the bridge of his nose as Megan hurried after him. They had just been through quite a long interrogation by the police, although James’ had taken even longer than Megan’s. Apparently she had waited for him outside the room, and didn’t seem to notice that he didn’t want to talk to her, judging by the way she was chasing after him.

“Want to tell me exactly what’s going on?” She snapped, grabbing his arm.

James shook her hand off. “You know what’s going on.”

She trotted alongside him as he picked up his pace. “No, I don’t actually.”

He reached his office and sat on his swivel chair, glowering at Megan as she followed him and closed the door. “Clearly I’m a suspect, is it that complicated?”

“You’re _making_ yourself into a suspect,” she snapped. “You’re acting all suspicious and dodging questions and not giving anyone a clear answer to anything. Of course you’re a suspect.”

“I’m not doing anything! My dog tag was on that murder scene, in the hand of the victim. I’m not making myself into anything. There’s a pretty damning piece of evidence against me.”

“But even before that!”

James made a noise of frustration and reached into his pocket, pulling out his cell phone and clicking on Sam’s contact. It rang for a while, and James slammed his metal fist onto the table, shaking the entire piece of solid wood as he pressed on another contact.

“Hello?” Clint answered. “What’s up? You weren’t here last night; do you have some hot date to tell me about? Ooh, was it—”

“Where’s Sam?”

“What? He’s on a mission. Hey, buddy, you okay?”

“No.” James rested his elbow on the desk, leaning his forehead on his metal hand. The coolness felt good against the throbbing pain that was returning tenfold. “I’m being suspected for a murder.”

“What? Why? You’ve got an alibi, surely?”

“Look, could you… maybe come over here? If Sam’s not around—I need to talk to one of you guys about this. If we could get Tony’s lawyer on this…”

“You think it’s that serious?”

“I’ll explain it when you get here, if you can.”

“Of course. On my way now.”

“Wait, Clint? Could you ask Shuri for something for a migraine?”

“You are in a bad way, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” James took a deep, shuddering breath, saying goodbye to Clint and putting his phone on the desk.

“Clint is coming here?” Megan asked, looking up from where she was sitting on the couch.

“Yeah.” James didn’t move, trying to stave off the nausea that was approaching from the stabbing pain in his head mixed with the overwhelming stress of the day. He closed his eyes—darkness would help his head.

But with his eyes closed, images of bloody snow filled his mind, of him shooting Hydra targets point-blank in the head, _smiling_ as they ran away and he picked them off, one by one..

James sat up with a jolt, gasping.

“Uh, are you okay?”

James could feel himself shaking, the overwhelming sense of helplessness overtaking him, filling himself with dread and palpable fear.

“I don’t think you’re in as much danger of being arrested as you think,” Megan told him, her anger at him apparently forgotten. “The fact that they haven’t taken you in now indicates that there’s some doubt, at least.”

“I’m not afraid of going to jail,” James snapped.

“Then, what?”

The door opened before he could answer, and Clint walked in, wearing a purple hoodie and jeans, his hair covered by a baseball cap which he took off as he closed the door behind him. “Hey Buck. Here’s something from Shuri.” He shoved an orange prescription bottle at him. “There’s only one pill in there, because she was afraid you’d take too many. She said it should work.”

“Thanks.” James grabbed a water bottle from the edge of his desk and swallowed the pill, turning around to watch Clint say hi to Megan, and then sit down next to her.

“So, what’s going on here? Why are you being suspected for murder?”

James took a deep breath. “Nothing that I say leaves this room, okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” Clint agreed.

James looked at Megan, who bit her lip and hesitated before replying. “It depends. I’m not going against my principles to keep your secrets, especially if you actually did have a part in this.”

“That’s fair,” James sighed.

“Would you rather me leave?” Megan asked.

James shook his head, wincing at the movement. “No, this concerns you, too.”

“Okay, yeah, yeah, we get it, you don’t want us to tell on you. Can I please hear the story?”

James gave a brief recap of what had happened during the day and the previous one. “They found my dog tag in the hand of one of the victims. They’re surmising that he ripped it off the neck of the suspect,” he finished.

“So it looks bad that it’s yours. But that thing went missing from the Smithsonian years ago. They should know that.”

“Except that if anyone could break into a museum to steal it, it would be one of us,” James pointed out. “It’s not far-fetched for them to think I _did_ have it. I mean, I have got Steve’s.”

“I guess,” Clint shrugged. “Anyway, when are they saying these murders happened?”

“More than six hours ago,” James shrugged. “The fact that it’s so cold outside makes it hard to tell. They’re all frozen solid. They died sometime after it had been snowing for a while, but it’s possible that they died just before it stopped snowing. They’re checking out my movements during that time. Obviously I was on the scene—without supervision—when I was with Meg yesterday.”

“Yeah, I’d still like to know why you’re being so vague about that,” Megan huffed. “They’re asking for a play-by-play account of what happened, and you’re giving them a very unsatisfactory answer.”

James sighed heavily. “That’s because _I can't remember_.”

There was a moment of silence before Clint spoke slowly. “Okay, that’s bad. What _do_ you remember?”

“I remember telling Meg I was going to take a walk, and I remember heading over to the back of the buildings nearby, to check the alleyways. There was some scent I vaguely remember… and then I remember getting back in the car. I would’ve told you it was a five-minute walk, and I was honestly very surprised when you told me I had been gone twenty, Megan. Then I started seeing colors in my vision and I knew that I was getting a migraine, around which point you reminded me about the license plate. But even those details are fuzzy.” He shook his head. “And it’s frustrating, because there goes my entire alibi. If I told anyone that…”

“So what did you tell them during the interrogation?” Megan asked.

“I’ve not let on that I don’t remember anything, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You said there was a funny smell?” Clint asked.

“Yeah. I couldn’t tell you what it was, but it’s just a very vague memory.”

Clint took a deep breath. “Don’t get upset, but—do you reckon maybe someone did this to you on purpose?”

James swallowed hard. “I’ve been asking myself that question over and over again. If someone did something that would make me forget the memory, or even—” he stopped, feeling sick.

“Triggered the Winter Soldier? Do you think there’s another way to do that?”

“I can’t conclusively say there’s not.” James shifted in his seat, wiping sweat from his upper lip.

“But you couldn’t have killed them then, or Megan here would have heard the gunshots,” Clint pointed out.

“You don’t actually think…” Megan looked at Clint, then James, in turn. James stared back at her. “Okay, well, I did tell them I was listening to music.”

“There goes that alibi,” James groaned, leaning back in the chair. “And there’s later that night. I spent it alone, in this police station, and I left once to go investigate a sound outside. Apparently that’s on camera too; me walking outside and not returning for, like, an hour.”

“And what were you doing then?”

“I took a walk to see if there was anyone nearby. I was feeling a little more clear-headed then. But it’s still… lost time, mostly. I didn’t think I was out there that long. Maybe I just didn’t notice, or maybe it’s another memory lapse.”

“Did you catch the scent again?” Clint asked, leaning forward on the couch.

“Can’t recall.”

“I definitely understand your fear now,” Megan sighed. “You’re trying time defend yourself, but any way you do it, you’ll sound like an unreliable narrator.”

“It’s more than that,” James said quietly. “I’m not at all sure that I _didn’t_ kill them. Maybe I did. And that’s what really scares me. I deserve being arrested anyway, for my crimes. I’ll spend the rest of my life in prison if that’s what they think is fair. But I don’t know if I can live with the knowledge that I’ve done it again.”

The room went completely silent, and James swallowed hard, trying to rein in his nausea again. He could hear officers outside, laughing, talking, carefree, and he longed to be anywhere else. Any _one_ else.

“But the dog tag,” Megan said suddenly. “There’s your proof that it wasn’t you. If you didn’t have that dog tag, then there’s no way you could’ve done it.”

“The only way I would have shot them is if the Soldier had been triggered,” James pointed out, his voice low and full of despair. “Obviously HYDRA was involved, somehow. That HYDRA person could have planted the dog tag.”

“Then it wasn’t you!” Megan cried out, standing up. “The fault lies with the one who caused it to happen, not you. Even if you did shoot them, you were just the weapon. It’s not the gun’s fault if someone shoots it; no more is it your fault if someone uses a… messed-up version of you to carry out _their_ crime.”

“It is my fault!” James shot back. “Because if I wasn’t here, so many people would not be dead. If I just—I don’t know, _removed myself from the equation_ , then there would be no risk, there would be no one in danger from me!”

Megan froze. “What?”

“Yeah, I get that,” Clint said, his voice low, defeated. “We’re these specialized fighters, but sometimes you wonder if, maybe if we weren’t around, this wouldn’t happen. We all feel it, James.”

“You’re telling me all the Avengers are borderline suicidal?” Megan gaped at them.

No one responded, and the only sound in the room was from James tapping his metal fingers against the leather of his chair.

“Okay, well I’m not standing for that,” Megan said firmly. “The important part isn’t to blame ourselves. The important part is to find out who orchestrated this attack. My father didn’t get that justice, but these guys deserve it. And even if it was you, James? Well, then we can prove that if we have to. But for the sake of this family, we can’t just sit around here and pity ourselves. They need answers, and I intend to find them.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda strayed from the subject here because, well, I could. So enjoy the random ramble about fallen friends.
> 
> Yes, Clint and Bucky are my two favorite Avengers (barring Loki). Hush.

“What exactly are you planning to do?”

Megan turned her head to look at James, who was sitting on the couch back at the Avenger’s tower, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows. He had been skeptical from the start, but Megan had suggested they all go back to the tower to look through what evidence they might be able to gather with the use of Tony’s old high-clearance levels. She had figured inviting herself over wasn’t a huge crime, considering James still had her cats here.

“Stop acting like you’re all done in,” Megan said, rolling her eyes. “We’ve got clearance to look through any and all files here, right? So we’ll use that to dig into this.”

“We’re not detectives. This is illegal.”

“Since when did that stop you?” Clint snorted, turning around from where he had been staring out the window. “I actually have to agree with Megan here.”

“Oh yeah.” She held up her hand for a high-five, then immediately dropped it again to type something else into James’ computer. She had taken it off his desk before they had left the station, figuring that, since it was on the police network, it would be a good place to start.

“What are you even looking up?” James leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he peered at the laptop resting on the coffee table.

“Come sit on the floor with me, and you can help better,” Megan suggested, patting the carpet.

“I’m fine here,” James said with a small chuckle. “Do you even know what you’re doing on here?”

“Sure. We’ll just hop into the database and search our guy.”

“We don’t know his name,” James pointed out.

“That’s why Mr. Barton over there is going to google the murder for us,” Megan countered cheerfully.

“I’m not involved in this,” Clint muttered, pulling out his phone. “If y’all get arrested for looking into this, don’t you dare mention me. I’ve got my family to think of.”

“Maybe you should’ve thought of that when you murdered all those people a couple years back,” James shot back.

“Do you know what it’s like to lose everyone you care about?”

“Woah there, you two. If you’re going to be arguing all the time, we’ll never get to the bottom of this.”

“We already have,” James countered. He glared up at Clint. “And for the record, I know _exactly_ how that feels, and I didn’t go on a murderous rampage.”

“You kinda did, but I don’t feel like arguing about it right now.” Clint put his phone back in his pocket. “There’s no information on it yet; they haven’t released names or even spoken about suspects.”

“Thank you, Mr—“

“Don’t call me that; it makes me feel old.”

“Okay, uh, thank you, Clint. And thank you for ignoring grouchy over here.” She jabbed her thumb over to indicate James. Clint winked at her and turned back to the window.

 _Hawkeye_ just winked at her.

Megan couldn’t help but stare at him, the realization as to who these people were suddenly coming back to her. It was hard to focus on a murder case when, inside, she really was still holding down her inner fangirl. In person, they seemed so real—Clint’s hair was in a messy half-Mohawk, perhaps an attempt to make himself seem more intimidating, that really fell quite flat. Not that he didn’t look toned and ready for a fight.

“He’s married, you know,” James’ Brooklyn-accented voice whispered into her ear, and Megan felt herself flush red.

“I wasn’t… oh, shut up. Okay. Um. Any idea where to begin on this?”

“License plate?” James suggested. “You still got that?”

“So you’re being helpful now?” Megan sighed, digging into her pocket. “Yeah, I grabbed that before I came in here. Forgot about it.”

“Too distracted?”

“Okay, hush,” Megan snapped, turning to look at him. “You guys are, like, celebrities, and even though it’s hardly the occasion to comment on it—“

“No, it’s not,” James frowned, standing up and walking toward the open-plan kitchen. Megan stared after him, tilting her head in confusion.  
She shook her head roughly and returned to the laptop, clicking in the search bar. James’ search history came up, and she blinked as she saw her father’s name. Of course she should have expected that—but seeing it felt somehow different. She glanced back to the kitchen, seeing that he was putting on some coffee, and clicked on the name.

She scanned her eyes over the file, feeling sick as she read the clinical descriptions of what happened, and prudently deciding not to look at the photos. Suddenly she inhaled quickly, coming across a passage she could only describe as familiar.

“Found something?” Clint asked, turning away from the window again.

Megan took a shaky breath and read from the page. “Shot with a Beretta M9, from a distance of about ten yards, in the back of the head. Death probably instant. No other signs of injuries. Car found close to the site, abandoned, with only the victim’s fingerprints on the wheel.”

“So you found the file?” Clint asked. “That’s nothing we didn’t know, really, except the bullet type, which Buck’s about to freak out about, I can feel it.”

“That couldn’t have been analyzed that fast,” James interrupted, walking over. “What are you looking at?”

“This is my father’s file.”

The room went absolutely silent, the type of silence that was so absolute that one could feel a palpable tension in the room.

“You can’t deny the similarity,” Clint finally said.  
Megan took another deep breath and looked up at James, who was standing next to her now, staring at the computer screen with an unreadable expression. “James, where were you the year he was killed?”

“What, 2010?” James frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t think I killed your father, though; it doesn’t, um, ring any bells. Carjacking wasn’t exactly The Soldier’s thing. I mean, I wasn’t supposed to speak to anyone—” He stopped, looking at the ceiling, and cracked a small smile. “I don’t _really_ have it out for everyone’s parents.”

“Yeah, but that’s exactly what I’m saying. You didn’t do it, but somebody else did, with the same type of gun you own, and the same kind of method, barring the car thing. But the car thing is actually a sort of link between these two…” she stopped, biting at the skin around her nails.

“You think these two cases might be linked?”

Megan hesitated. “We were just discussing how my dad’s case seems to lead to HYDRA. Your involvement in this case—as they framed you to be involved; I’m still not convinced you were—leads us to believe that this would also be HYDRA.”

James nodded slowly, sitting down behind Megan again and putting his flesh hand on her shoulder. “Looks like the case is personal for both of us.”

“Could you contact HYDRA?” Clint asked suddenly, looking at James. “Like—you’ve been informed of where they’ve been and whatever, haven’t you?”

James swallowed. “I know where… where at least one of them is imprisoned.”

“Could we go see him? Ask him about this?”

The grip on Megan’s shoulder grew a bit tighter. “I can’t imagine he’d know anything.”

“He might,” Megan pointed out. “Through letters or private phone calls. It could have been referenced without any of the guards realizing it. Most people think of you as Bucky; even changing the name to James could make the guards miss it. Please let go of my shoulder before you break it.”

James’ hand flew away instantly, as if her skin burned him, and he looked at his palm, his expression pained. “I don’t want to see him again,” he murmured.

“Clint and I can just go,” Megan suggested.

“No, it has to come from him,” Clint sighed. “If he knows they’re trying to frame him, then seeing him would possibly make it more likely that he’ll talk.”

“How about we find a base and hold some guys at gunpoint for information?” James growled. “It’s be more successful.”

Clint stared at him. “Wait, do you know where we could find a HYDRA base?”

“Not near here.”

“As in, how far?” Megan asked.

“Like, Russia,” James said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can’t leave the country.”

“I doubt HYDRA there knows about what’s going on here, anyway,” Clint sighed.

“I could take you to where they held me just before Steve found me,” James murmured. “Would that help? That’s pretty close, only an hour or two from here.”

Megan turned to look at him, catching sight of his expression—clearly he didn’t want to do any of this. It was tearing him up, she could tell. She placed her hand gently on his thigh, and he startled, seemingly only just stopping himself from jumping away from her. “Sorry,” she murmured, pulling her hand away, but he took it in his own and rested it back where it had been on his thigh, his hand completely covering hers. She stared into his eyes, searching him for what he was thinking, but his face was closed off completely, except for those kind, sparkling eyes.

He certainly didn’t look like a murderer.

“We could try that,” Megan said finally. “They need a temprary base here, and it’s possible they’d return to where they’d been before.”

“I mean, it’s been years; the chances are slim,” Clint pointed out. “But I suppose it’s worth a try.”

“Have we got any sort of facial recognition software?” Megan asked suddenly.

“Why?”

“Because we’ve got the blonde. He has to be involved. He spoke to me about how I don’t know what you’re capable of, James—so maybe he was trying to get me to believe that you would actually do something like this.”

“He’s absolutely right, I’m afraid,” James muttered.

“He’s not.” Megan looked at the laptop again, picking it up and sitting on the couch next to James, with the laptop on her lap. “Anyway—any idea how we could identify him?”

“We’d need a photo,” James sighed. “Or a really good drawing.” He leaned forward, placing his head in his hands and swearing. “I wish Steve was here.”

Megan looked at him, really looked at him. She had mourned the hero they had lost along with the rest of the world, and even at the time, she remembered having thought about how hard it must have been for Bucky—but since then, she had gotten to know James, and it was hard for her to reconcile the two in her brain. Somehow, him mentioning his old friend just made it all… so much more real. It was strange, a feeling Megan hadn’t expected or even really understood.

“And I miss Nat,” Clint said, looking out the window again. “It’s our line of work. We have to accept that they—“

“That they what?” James looked up, his eyebrows narrowed. “Decided that I wasn’t a good enough reason to stay? I loved Natalia, too, but she—she died nobly. For a cause. And Steve decides to leave all this because he can’t get over the girl he lost.”

“I thought you discussed this with him,” Clint murmured.

James’ shoulders slumped. “I did.”

“And you told him to go,” Clint reminded him.

“I didn’t want to get in the way of his happiness. Not again. He had to.”

“Exactly.” There was a pause before Clint spoke. “I’m sorry I let Nat die. There’s not a day I don’t regret that.”

“It’s not your fault. She would’ve hated you for dying for her. Not when you had a family.”

“You were in love with her, weren’t you?”

James took a deep breath. “It’s more complicated than that. Maybe I was, once. In the Red Room, when I was training her—we helped each other both feel human again. We were punished for that. Quite severely. And then she was gone. You found her.” He looked up. “And thank God for that.”

“She would’ve found a way out,” Clint said, turning around and looking at James with a wistful smile. “It was Natasha, after all.”

“She would have.” James offered the same wry smile in response.

Megan turned quickly back to the laptop as the conversation seemed to be ending, not wanting to be caught listening so intently. She typed in the license plate of the car, which had all but been forgotten, and pressed the search button.

“Sorry,” James murmured, leaning over her shoulder to look at the laptop. “We’re a pretty depressing bunch.”

“Life is harder for you guys than it is for the rest of us,” Megan shrugged. “That’s unfortunately just the fact of the matter.”

The page loaded the information of the owner of the car, a dark-haired, middle-aged man. “That’s him, isn’t it?” Megan asked. “The guy who was shot? I figured it would be. It mirrors my dad’s case perfectly.”

James looked into her eyes, the sadness and pain in her own reflected in his. “We’re not the only ones with lives effected by the cruelty of humans,” he murmured, and took her hand for the second time that day.


End file.
